


Burning Bridges

by fyreyantic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Original Character(s), Prostitution, Sexual Coercion, just a teeny bit though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3398414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyreyantic/pseuds/fyreyantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is coerced into playing 'courtesan' to society's distinguished and wealthy. Bruce then meets Tony Stark - a man he actively despises - who decides he wants him.</p><p>AU - Set in a universe where Loki never came to Earth and Bruce never joined the Avengers (but the Avengers still exist). Bruce Banner is believed dead, and it is largely unknown that Bruce and the Hulk are one and the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've published in years. So that's exciting for me.
> 
> Also there's an explicit dub-con scene in this chapter that is trigger-y. So this is just an extra warning in case you missed the tags on the way in.

When Bruce heard about the possibility of a cure for his condition there wasn’t a single moment of hesitation. He’d packed up his things, rushed out of the small dingy room he’d been occupying, and gave a rushed goodbye to the couple who had put him up in the first place. The cautious feeling came later as he sat in the storage area of a ship, realising he had just over a fortnight to mull over everything.

Last time Bruce had been so hasty he had ended up giving a man the ammo to create his own ‘Hulk’ serums, failed to produce the reversal of his radioactivity, and had battled a man juiced up on said serum which resulted in a broken Harlem. Not something he’d want to repeat. And knowing his luck, this sort of thing would just get worse each time he tried – like some sort of horrible curse plagued him as well as a raging, uncontrollable beast.

So when Bruce woke up the day after his arrival in chains, vision blurred, in a concrete room he really wasn’t that surprised.

They didn’t speak to him at first. They just fed him three times a day. Bruce wondered why they didn’t think he’d just let the Other Guy out, break out of his chains, and smash his way through the door. It annoyed him. Trying to stay calm started to seem counter-productive. It was at that point he realised that he couldn’t feel the Other Guy. He was quiet –like a docile animal. Bruce burst into laughter. In spite of his situation he felt free; freer than he’d ever been.

But if he knew what was coming Bruce would have known that he was more trapped than ever.  
  


***  
  


It was a typical event – for some charity or other. A bunch of men and women in expensive suits and lavish gowns showing off the money they had, and the money they gave.

Bruce didn’t have a target tonight. Sometimes he was used for business connections, like some sort of token of goodwill. Sometimes he was used to get information. He could count those instances on one hand. Bruce wasn’t a spy and it was obvious he was a last resort for that sort of thing.

So it was just money tonight. Just money and making sure he was friendly and open to flirtation. Bruce wasn’t that good at flirting, which for some reason actually made him more desired. If only his slight awkwardness could be of any use other than this.

“Bruce, it’s so lovely to see you.”

Henry Fraser. His company specialised in plastics: a lucrative business. He’d been with Bruce a few times.

“You too, Mr Fraser.”

Bruce put on a shy smile.

“How’s your wife?”

That was code for ‘can we go find a room to fuck in later or is your wife with you tonight?’

Bruce thought it was an unsubtle code.

“Ah, Mrs. Fraser is well. Recovering from a cold, but still managing to take down one glass of champagne after another.”

It was common knowledge that Mr. Fraser wasn’t too partial to his wife. It was also common knowledge that Mrs. Fraser once set his stamp collection on fire. That was something Bruce tried not to find hilarious but had ultimately failed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bruce said, over-apologetically.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, my boy.” Bruce repressed a shudder. He liked to call Bruce that when they were together. “We all must bear our crosses.”

Mr. Fraser patted him on the shoulder before excusing himself.

Bruce spoke with John Thompson (electronics), Nathan Mitchell (editor-in-chief of a major national newspaper), Naomi Clark (up-and-coming fashion designer, or so he’s told), and more and more people that he began to lose track. Despite what he did people still treated him with respect – to his face, at least. Bruce was pretty sure that behind his back it was an entirely different story.

He then spent about half an hour talking to Blake Morris. Blake showed no interest in him or even that he had any knowledge of what Bruce did, but it didn’t matter to Bruce. Blake was the only person he ever got to talk about science to – or rather, listen to. He couldn’t blow his cover. But still he listened to all Blake had to say, and there was a lot.

Blake was in his mid-forties, had two PhDs down his sleeve, and ran one of the most prestigious academic journals in the world. Even though he specialised in microbiology and anthropological genetics (which was interesting in its own right) he personally read each and every article published – as well as ones that didn’t quite make it. Seeing him was always the highlight of his evening.

Bruce had to move on after a while. He needed to find someone by the time the evening finished, so he thanked Blake and went about pressing more palms and being as sweet and friendly as he could.

He spent nearly an hour making rounds. No one was biting. It was starting to be a problem.

Someone at the podium was tapping a glass with a fork trying to get the audience’s attention. He instructed everyone to take their seats at the round tables situated before the stage. Bruce tried to rush to find room to sit at a table with someone note-worthy. He managed to take a seat next to Evelyn Cook, daughter of Francis Cook, who got rich on oil and now had taken to hydraulic fracking. Evelyn had never been interested in him but her father had been. Bruce remembered the bruises and the way it hurt to walk for three days afterwards. He tried not to catch Mr. Cook’s eye too much.

The speeches weren’t very interesting - always the same self-congratulatory egotism. Charity just seemed like showing off to these people. But Bruce smiled and clapped along with everyone else.

His smiled faded when he knew something wasn’t going to plan.

Tony Stark appeared at the side of the stage, walking towards the podium. He made a gesture to the person behind it (Kristoff Clark, who paid Bruce to spank him about once a month) to walk off. Confused, Kristoff obliged. Tony Stark then stood behind the stage, cleared his throat, and then spoke.

“Charity. What is charity? I asked Captain America what charity was. He gave me a speech. I should have recorded it, because I wasn’t really listening and it’s probably better than this. Charity is giving money to people who need it, but charity is also me being here. Not that I had a choice. Not doing enough public appearances, apparently.”

 There was a faint murmur of laughter.

“So, I guess now that I’m here, and now I’ve sort of done a speech like I was meant to – at least tell my CEO I did, alright? - here’s my donation to – what was it? Oh, Oceana. What’s that for? Dolphins? – ok, I’ve changed my mind. This donation is not for Oceana. Who came up with this event? Oh. You’re the chairperson? Sorry. Well, I’m donating a million dollars to whoever can come up with a charity that sounds good to me. Ciao!”

Tony threw up a peace sign before leaving the stage, and making a beeline to the bar. Everyone was silent. Inside, Bruce was fuming. Tony was unbearably arrogant. Every time Bruce ended up at an event that Tony Stark was also invited to Tony ended up making a scene; and now he was Iron Man and he no longer took part in the weapons industry he suddenly thought he was a ‘good’ person. Bruce had met people whose families had been torn apart by Stark’s weapons. He had seen children with their legs blown off, tried to heal their wounds as they screamed in pain, seen the tears, the sleepless nights; seen the corpses left rotting in the sun. He’d seen a baby – or what was left of it, being cradled in its mother’s arms, all blood and bones.

Tony Stark was still the Merchant of Death. Pain and suffering doesn’t disappear overnight. Whatever happened when Tony was kidnapped, it was nothing like what the people he’d seen had gone through. Tony could never wash that blood off his hands, and Bruce hated that Tony seemed to think that he _could_ – or that he already _had_.

But a million dollars. Bruce should be thinking of finding someone – he knows the consequences – but a million dollars. He can’t rely on these people to convince Tony of a charity. A million dollars in the hands of a bad charity when it could go to good – it broke his heart. If anyone came never Tony suggesting PETA, or Autism Speaks, he might actually lose it.

Not that he could anymore.

Bruce stood up from his chair and excused himself, walking over to the bar. He was used to talking to people he didn’t want to; even being friendly with them. So he tried to convince himself that this wouldn’t be hard.

“Mr. Stark,” Bruce said as he moved up to the bar, leaning on it with his left side, so that his body was entirely open to Tony.

Tony took a sip of his martini and looked over at him.

“You here about the charity thing? You know flirting won’t help you. Though something else might.”

Tony’s eyes twinkled.

Bruce tried to swallow his feelings of revulsion as quickly as possible. Whoring himself off to Tony Stark wasn’t anything he planned to do. But a million dollars. Bruce closed his eyes, thinking of all the people he could have saved with this money a year ago, and all the people he could save now.

“Hey, you alright?” Tony asked.

Bruce smiled. “Just thinking of all the things I’d let you do to me.”

It wasn’t the most subtle approach Bruce had taken, but Tony seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t mind.

“Wow. You know, this donation’s for an actual charity. I’m not doubting how good you are – well, actually, I am – because for a million dollars I’d expect something beyond human comprehension.”

Bruce blinked.

“No, no. I do genuinely want – I mean, I do have a charity in mind.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, martini glass at his lips.

“Afghanaid. It’s a charity that works in Afghanistan to help meet survival needs, community stability, and human rights.”

Now Bruce was receiving a look that felt like Tony was trying to gaze into his very soul. It lasted nearly half a minute, before Tony broke eye contact.

“Sure, sounds good.”

Bruce smiled to himself and hoped desperately that Stark wasn’t just humouring him.

“I know who you are, by the way,” he heard Tony say, not looking at him.

“What?”

No he didn’t. He couldn’t possibly know who Bruce was. Bruce used a different surname, no one would suspect he was Bruce Banner, not living the way he does, and he couldn’t know he was the Hulk –

“You’re that guy Carson’s been pimping out. Interesting choice. Popular too, I’ve heard.”

Bruce didn’t quite know what to say. He knew he was a whore – he knew he was objectified – but when Tony spoke like this it seemed so blunt and honest and nothing like how other people would talk to him.

“What is your price, anyway?”

Bruce felt his stomach sink to the floor.

“I-it depends,” Bruce stammered.

“By how long someone has you or what someone gets you to do?”

“If it’s half an hour, it’s by what we do. Otherwise it’s by time.”

Tony hummed, sounding mildly interested.

“Most people don’t ask for - for half an hour though. Usually it’s the whole night.”

“But you don’t have sex all that time?”

“Uh, not usually, no.”

“But sometimes?”

“Well, uh, some people like different sorts of things, so, you know, sometimes I end up staying up all night.”

Tony was looking at Bruce with scrutiny.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’ve never actually paid for sex,” Tony stated. “But…”

And here it was. Bruce’s client for the night – Tony Stark. The last person he’d ever want. Bruce was trying not to think of Tony inside of him, moaning into his ear, but it wasn’t really working.

Bruce could still pretend. If he didn’t find anyone tonight, things could get a lot worse. He could do this.

“But?” Bruce asked playfully.

“I want to see what all the hype is about. Plus I bet you look gorgeous when you come undone.”

Bruce smiled shyly.

Tony’s smile was much wider.

“I’ll get my limo.”  
  


***  
  


They were about five minutes in and all they were doing was kissing: long, frustratingly slow, languid kissing. Tony tasted like olives and the taste of his martini clung to Bruce’s tongue. Bruce moaned a little, hoping that would spur things on. He was kind of hoping Tony would just lay him out of the bed, fuck him once, and then leave. That would be the nicer option. But it was Tony – so of course he’d want more.

Next time they broke apart to breathe, Bruce spoke almost straight away.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”

 “Yeah,” Tony replied breathlessly. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

Bruce shrugged off his jacket and took off his cufflinks. He knelt before Tony. Rolling up his sleeves he made to undo Tony’s belt. He tried to keep his eyes locked onto Tony’s but the belt was new and stiff. Bruce had to pay attention in order to unclasp it.

Once undone, Bruce pulled down the zipper. He didn’t take Tony’s cock out at once but instead licked it through the cloth of his underwear. Tony made an encouraging sound so Bruce continued.

When his tongue was starting to feel dry he pulled down Tony’s underwear. His dick wasn’t too long (he’d taken longer) and it wasn’t too thick (he’d taken thicker). A mocking voice in his head said, ‘just the right size’ and Bruce nearly shuddered.

Bruce stroked it a few times, before taking a few tentative licks at the tip. Tony seemed to like that. After a few more Bruce then took Tony’s cock in his mouth, sucking it delicately and meeting Tony’s eyes.

People generally liked the timid act; they liked him looking like he didn’t know what he was doing but they liked him making them feel like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. And he did. It had been nearly a year and a half since Bruce started doing this. His teachers had always told him he was a quick learner.

Bruce brought a hand up to move with his mouth. He was sucking more now, trying to make Tony’s cock wet without Tony realising it was his intent. Bruce was working him with faux desperation, giving Tony his innocent ‘am I making you feel good?’ look.

Tony swore and put a hand behind Bruce’s head, just keeping it there. Bruce started to take in more and more. He tried to make it look like it was a struggle but it wasn’t.

“Fuck, you don’t have to –“

Bruce took all of Tony’s cock into his mouth and held it. Then he pulled back all the way, Tony’s dick popping out of his mouth, spit clinging between the end of Tony’s dick and his mouth.

“You look so fucking hot. Shit. Take off your clothes, I need to fuck you.”

Bruce paused for the shortest of moments. He thought that would’ve lasted longer. Maybe Tony thought that was genuinely difficult for him and felt guilty to make him continue. The idea made him sick.

As he took off all his clothes and went to lie on the bed his whole mind was screaming: ‘this is Tony Stark, this is Tony Stark, you know what he did and you’re just going to let him fuck you?!’

But he had no choice. Bruce forced himself to think about the million dollars and the faces of all the people he’d seen all happy again. This was his bizarre sacrifice. One night - it was just for one night. It was nothing.

Tony already had lube and a condom which was a nice change. Bruce didn’t really want more of Tony Stark inside of him than was strictly necessary, so he prepped himself and put on a show. He moaned out Tony’s name to let Tony know he was ready.

Tony moved in slowly. Bruce didn’t want slow.

“I want you. Please, Tony. Please fuck me.”

Tony gave a deep, guttural moan before thrusting into Bruce hard. Bruce let his head fall back and his hands grasp the sheets as Tony started up a steady rhythm.

What Bruce hadn’t counted on was how good Tony was at sex. It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world now Bruce realised he’d forgotten. But now Tony was fucking him, and moving just so he hit all the right spots. Without realising it he was moaning, his cock was harder than it had been in months, and he didn’t want Tony to stop.

Bruce was enjoying this. It was horrifying. He wasn’t certain if he should try to fight it or just give in.

“You feel so good. So fucking good.”

_Million dollars. I can save them._

“Fuck yes. Do that – do that again –“

_I can save them._

“Oh fuck!”

_I can save them. I can save them._

Bruce came, semen covering his hand. He dimly registered rather than felt Tony climax inside him. Bruce felt vacant.

Tony was breathing hard.

“Yeah. Yeah, I say you live up to the hype.”

Tony smiled at him.

Tony woke him up later for round two. In the morning Bruce gave him a blowjob. He somehow managed to swallow Tony’s cum without gagging. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure I'm happy with all of this but I got tired of going over it. 
> 
> I'll be updating this about once a week I think. That's the idea, anyway.

_Bruce was tied to a table, arms and legs fighting vehemently with the restraints. He was shirtless and covered in sweat, jaw clenched._

_A man was sitting two feet from his side on a chair. He held up a white capsule between his forefinger and thumb._

_“I believe we can make a deal, don’t you?”_   
  


***  
  


Bruce had two apartments: one where he took clients when nowhere else was available, and one where he actually lived.

The one he lived in was small but it wasn’t cheap in the same way his old places had been. Everything was in working order. There was no dry rot, no odd smells, no strange noises in the walls. It was clean and immaculate and sometimes too quiet. Bruce often left the radio on because he hated the quiet. It made the place feel more like it was stuck in a vacuum than being a refuge from the outside world.

The lounge and kitchen shared the same room. For a while he didn’t have a television but ended up buying one to keep an eye on the news – just in case. Bruce’s actual bedroom, which you could enter from the lounge, was reasonably small. All he kept in it was a single bed, a bookcase, and a chest of drawers for storage.

For Bruce’s clothes there was a walk-in closet that held all the suits, ties, and shoes he needed for events. He had more casual clothes which were deceptively expensive. Bruce wore those most of the time.

The bathroom, also attached to his room, was just big enough to fit the toilet, shower, bathtub, and sink that it contained.

Besides the clothes in the closet nothing was too fancy and Bruce liked it that way.

The radio was playing some popular song and Bruce found himself humming along as he read a book on his bed, tapping his feet to the music. These were some of his favourite moments: the quieter ones when there was nothing to really worry about. Nothing was planned for the night; he could finish his book, and maybe eat something that wasn’t gourmet cuisine – perhaps order in a pizza or get some curry from the Indian place a few blocks away.

Bruce was reaching the climax of the novel when his cell phone rang. He fumbled to get it out of his pocket before answering it.

“Hello?”

“Bruce.”

Bruce knew the voice and cringed.

“Do you remember that evening last week – the charity one, I believe – when you managed to get the great Tony Stark into bed?”  
  


***  
  


As horrible disappointments went, it wasn’t half bad.

Bruce stood in a huge room, men and women talking to each other in earnest conversation. Bruce could see a few who were becoming quite passionate about whatever the conversation topic was, and a lot seemed like an exchange of pleasantries – a lot less fake that what he was used to.

He didn’t know how they’d convinced Blake Morris (the owner of the scientific journal) to let him come along. It was a very exclusive conference. Everyone there were distinguished scientists; just like Bruce used to be. He was terrified he’d be recognised. Bruce knew several people in the crowd. Blake Morris even brought him along with him as he walked the room to talk to some of them. He always introduced himself as an acquaintance of Morris. Bruce lied and said he’d only taken science briefly in University and didn’t understand half of what people talked about but that he found it really interesting. People thought him a bit strange but continued their discussions with each other.

The conference was for physics and chemistry: the interaction and viewpoints of the two disciplines of science. It was something Bruce was intensely interested in and had to bite his tongue several times to stop himself contributing to the conversation.

At the same time he learnt new theories and new findings of the scientific community. Someone had come up with a fascinating theory about the big bang and dark matter which if held up to scrutiny could be a significant breakthrough. Another woman had the most insightful ideas into thermochemistry that Bruce had ever heard.

Bruce was genuinely enjoying himself. He had missed this. He’d never been that social with the scientific community but he’d always loved the peer-to-peer discussions.

He hadn’t forgotten Tony but he felt like somehow this was worth it; like the universe had finally given him something good to balance out the bad.

Bruce was giving a genuine smile as he introduced himself to another scientist when he was startled by a voice behind him.

“…Bruce Banner, I mean, sure his stuff on particle collisions was good, but the way people go on about him…”

He heard whoever the voice was talking to hum their agreement.

“I heard his intern at the time did most of the work. It was mostly his idea in the first place.”

Bruce felt his anger rising.

“And then getting into whatever that military project was just because he was going out with the daughter of the man in charge –“

Bruce tried to control his breathing. He excused himself as politely as he could and walked away. He could see a table to the side which had glasses of champagne and made towards that.

Bruce rested his hands on it trying to will himself to calm down. He couldn’t feel the Other Guy; he didn’t sense the greenness that usually tried to fog up his brain. It felt so easy to just let go. It almost felt wrong that he didn’t feel him – as if it could be wrong to not change in the middle of a room full of at least a hundred people. But he just felt so empty.

He knew the man was wrong. Everything he said reeked of envy. But it hurt to know people would even think that. To all intents and purposes Bruce was dead to the scientific community – and now people were questioning his contributions. The things he had spent months on - that he’d poured his life into – the things that were robbed from him. He was so angry he felt like crying and he had forgotten he could feel that way. Bruce hadn’t felt like that since he was a kid.

“Hey, whoa, you ok?”

Tony. Of course he’d find Bruce in a moment like this.

“Yeah.”

Bruce wondered how he looked. He took his hands away from the table and brushed himself off.

“Someone just made me a bit angry, that’s all.”

Tony nodded.

“Scientists, huh?”

Bruce laughed humourlessly.

“So caught up with how clever they are that they forget how stupid they can be.”

“This is a weird place to end up for someone who does like scientists. Who are you with?”

“Oh, Blake Morris.”

Tony looked confused.

“I thought he was asexual. In fact, I’m pretty sure he came out last year.”

“I’m just here to accompany him.”

“You like science, then?”

“Uh, I’ve never really studied it but it sounds interesting.”

“Right.”

“Blake Morris always takes the time to talk to me. I’m only really here because of him.”

“And he left you?”

“I left him. That’s why I’m here. I got angry.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation as Tony drank his champagne and Bruce tried to steady his emotions. His head couldn’t let go of what man had said.

“So tonight’s your night off?”

“I don’t really have a night off unless no one’s interested,” Bruce said, shrugging.

“And you think someone will go after you here?” Tony asked incredulously.

“Well…”

Bruce’s tried to think but his mind was stuck on a loop. This was Tony Stark, this should be easy, the words were on the tip of his tongue but that man and what he said about his work and what he said about Betty as if he’d ever use her like that and then the loneliness and he was so shut off from the scientific community he couldn’t even acknowledge he knew the properties of hydrogen without the risk of someone becoming suspicious and it was unfair and this was simultaneously the worst and best night he’s had in a long time and it was _killing him_.

And now he stood in front of Tony Stark, expected to go to bed with him again – fake everything, pretend he enjoyed having sex with one of his most hated men in the world – when all he wanted to do was be at home in his room, listening to Taylor Swift and finishing that damn book.

“Seriously, are you alright?”

Bruce sighed and shook his head.

“Just someone really got on my nerves. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Who was it? I could get them thrown out if you want.”

“I don’t know his name. He was just…shockingly inconsiderate.”

“About what you do?”

“I guess he thought me being here and not really being a scientist wasn’t acceptable,” Bruce lied.

“What a dick. Seriously, if you point him out I can get him kicked out. I could even get him banned from this conference.”

Tony shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. He was being nice but Bruce felt unreasonably annoyed.

“That’s nice of you, but it’s fine.”

Bruce sighed.

“I shouldn’t really be talking to you like this. I’d be in trouble if my employers found out.”

“What, you’re not allowed to get angry about things?”

“I’m not meant to show I do. It’s counter-productive.”

“That’s kind of bullshit.”

“Would you take me to bed after seeing me upset about something?”

Tony gave him a sly glance.

“Sure I would. I take girls to bed like that all the time. I’m great at cheering people up.”

“I’m a professional, though.”

“Yeah, I got that impression the other night.”

Tony was smiling. Bruce averted his eyes. Shyness had become his trademark.

“And then you go and do things like that – seriously, how many clients do you actually have?”

“One less than I’d want,” Bruce said quietly.

“I don’t think that was quite as appealing as you wanted it to be.”

“I don’t do as well when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous? I thought you would have practiced.”

“It’s easier when you’re sure the other person will say yes.”

“Oh, are you saying I was easy last week?”

“Last week just sort of happened. I just know you don’t go for seconds.”

“People get clingy the second time around.”

“That’s the nice thing about prostitutes. They don’t expect that much from you.”

“Just money.”

“Just money. And they’ll do whatever you want.”

“I get a lot of people who’ll let me do whatever I want.”

Bruce moved closer to Tony.

“How hard are you going to make me work for this?”

“I just don’t usually play hard to get. It’s fun.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. Tony laughed.

“Have you finished then? Because I keep thinking about how you’re not fucking me right now and I’m starting to take it as a personal affront.”

“When you put it like that…Well, I have a room upstairs.”

Bruce followed Tony to the elevator, Tony with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He hated how easy it was to flirt with Tony. He hated that he had to go through this again. He hated that his employers wanted to make Tony a regular client, and if for nearly the entire duration of sex he thinking about thermodynamics and cosmology – well, there was nobody to say he shouldn’t.  
  


***  
  


“…I’m allowed…Well, I can’t really do much with it. It’s just a prototype…”

Bruce’s eyes were bleary as he started to wake up. He could hear Tony’s voice and realised after a moment that he was on the phone.

“I’d need more information, and I can’t really do that with Fury pulling the ‘you don’t have clearance’ card every five minutes…What? Oh. Yeah, they’re asleep though…Hey, sex is the best way to end a science conference. You don’t know what you’re talking about…Ok, fine. I’ll be back this afternoon…Whoa, not going to wake them up just to throw them out. You have no respect for the sexually promiscuous and it’s an insult to humanity…Whatever, bye.”

Bruce heard Tony hang up. Bruce kept his eyes closed and pretended to be sleeping. He felt Tony get off the bed and walk into the bathroom. Then he heard a rush of water as Tony turned on the shower and stepped into it.

Bruce sighed and moved onto his back. Last night hadn’t been too bad but he still felt a bit sore. He was getting used to ignoring who Tony was and what he’d done; detaching himself during sex was almost like second nature to Bruce now.

Bruce wondered if Tony wanted anything more from him. He’d immediately gone to the shower, which generally inferred that there wouldn’t be any more sex but sometimes blowjobs weren’t out of the question. It’d be presumptuous to get dressed.

Getting up, Bruce walked naked across the room. He saw some paper and a pen. Bruce clicked the pen and wrote something down on it.

By the time he’d found them Tony had come out of the bathroom naked and was rubbing a towel on his wet hair.

After five minutes Tony came out of the bathroom naked. His eyes found Bruce as he rubbed his wet hair with a towel.

“You’re up. What’s that?”

“Oh, um. I wrote down my number. You know, just in case.”

Tony sighed.

“You’re people really want this, don’t they? A connection with Stark industries. How much do they pay you exactly?”

“I live comfortably,” Bruce said defensively.

Tony looked conflicted.

“Alright, I’ll put the number in my phone. Just because of how cute your face is.”

That was not a word Bruce wanted associated with him. But he kept his mouth shut and told Tony his number.

“Cool.”

Tony started picking up his clothes from the floor and putting them on.

“I’ll see you,” Bruce said quietly on his way to the shower.

“Yeah, maybe.”

By the time Bruce came back Tony was gone.  
  


***  
  


His employers were very pleased when they heard that Bruce had given Tony his number: making him just about an official client.

They became less pleased when a week passed and no calls from Tony had been made.

Bruce tried not to be too worried. Tony Stark was a busy man – between working for his company, being part of the Avengers, and public appearances, there mustn’t be too much time left for casual sex. At least that’s what Bruce told himself.

He still had his pills daily. The little white capsules appeared in his room three at a time every three days. Bruce was still getting his steady stream of clientele and was still earning a fairly decent amount of money (though he never actually saw any of the payments).

It was just over a fortnight later when Tony finally phoned.

“Hey, Bruce?”

“Tony, hi.”

Bruce cringed when he heard how hoarse his own voice sounded.

“Wow, you sound great. Courtesy of your job, I presume?”

“Hopefully. A genuine illness could be a liability.”

Tony chuckled.

“Anyway, are you free tonight?”

“S-sure,” Bruce said. He’d have to cancel with Kristoff Clark but he could probably wheedle his way out of it.

“Great.”  
  


***  
  


They met at Bruce’s larger apartment – as they did once a week from then on. Bruce had finally settled into the rhythm when a month later he got new instructions from his employers:

Infiltrate Stark Tower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any inaccuracies about coffee it's because I don't really know much about it. I'm more of a tea person.
> 
> Also is this good? Are people enjoying it? Is there something that you think isn't really working? I'm curious and I want to make this enjoyable.

_It was tearing at his skin like he’d felt it tear so many times. The green swirled and misted his vision. But it was painful – so much more painful this time – like knives trying to break out of his skin, everything but piercing through. The beast within him was roaring with such voracity for destruction. It was pushing and pushing and Bruce knew he would have absolutely no control if he broke._

_“All you have to do is give us what we want.”_

_Bruce howled – somewhere between an anguished cry and a ferocious inhuman growl._

_“Dr Banner, you won’t be able to control it for much longer. These walls won’t be able to contain your alter ego. This building is located within a major highly-populated city. How confident are you that you can keep yourself from hurting people? From killing people?”_

_“Please…you don’t have to do this.”_

_“Your resistance is admirable.”_

_Bruce felt a cold hand grab his face and turn it towards the owner. A man was looking at him with scrutiny._

_“You know, if you’re so against this, I can think of another use for you.”_

_Bruce tried to ignore the mischievous glint in his eye._

_“Ross won’t appreciate it, but he’s always had trouble seeing the bigger picture.”_

_Bruce eyes widened at the name and he tightened his jaw._

_“Yes – Ross is the one who came up with the idea of luring you here. You came faster than he thought you would but he is on his way. So this offer will be one time only, Dr Banner…”_  
  


***  
  


The first objective was to make Bruce as indispensable to Tony Stark as possible.

It wasn’t an easy task. He had to study, analyse, and catalogue everything he could about exactly what Tony liked in bed – and that meant everything. Bruce had to satisfy him so completely that he’d never find anyone else who could pre-empt his wants as well as he could. He had to know Tony better than Tony knew himself. And oh god, Tony knew himself in that respect astonishingly well.

Bruce often wondered how things had ended up like this. If he’d known this would be his future even just two years ago he would have felt physically ill. It was hard to know what was right anymore. Bruce could either keep satisfying this man who had caused pain and suffering and death to thousands and thousands of people (and who carried on with his life seemingly unfazed) or he could forgo everything, throw away the pills, and pretend he wouldn’t care if he hurt anyone – or if he killed.

But then maybe Bruce would be just as bad as Tony Stark – killing when he could have prevented it. Maybe this was a sacrifice he just had to make, because the alternative was worse. It wasn’t about what was right and wrong but the lesser of two evils.

In the least Tony Stark wasn’t making weapons anymore. People were still using them; people were still finding wreckage of them and building their own weapons up. For the most part it was a small mercy.

Bruce only wished he knew what his employers wanted from Stark Tower. It couldn’t be good. But nothing was good and he’d make up his mind about it when he made it inside - if he made it.

It was uncomfortable learning all the small nuances that turned Tony on – just a small flick of the tongue there, a particular noise during that, the order in which to do things so they gave him a better climax. Tony liked dirty talk, which Bruce had never been that comfortable with. He also found out Tony liked to come on Bruce’s face, which Bruce was pretty sure he’d never be comfortable with. At least he was getting used to the smell and taste of Tony’s semen. Not pleasant, but familiar – like how Bruce had gotten used to coffee during his first year of university.

Sometimes Tony liked to handcuff Bruce to the bed and tease him and make him beg. Bruce found it strange. That was more often his job, but Tony seemed to enjoy it as much as his other clients did with Bruce the other way round. At first it was hard to come when he knew Tony wanted him to but he got the hang of it. He just thought about Betty – imagined it was Betty’s voice somehow, that it was Betty who was there and wanted him. It worked, but it was painfully bittersweet afterwards.

For all intents and purposes, Bruce’s technique was working. He was seeing Tony at least twice a week. It was starting to eat into appointments with other clients and he saw less and less of some people. Some had dropped from his list all together.

Tony was usually pretty regular about his hours. He always asked to see Bruce around ten or eleven pm, give or take. So when Bruce was woken up by a call at two in the morning he was rather confused.

“Tony?” Bruce asked, his voice thick with sleepiness.

“Hey, hey Bruce. Do you wanna come over?”

“Come over where?”

Bruce closed his eyes and wrinkled his brow. He didn’t really want to go anywhere but it was Tony and Tony was the priority that trumped everything.

“Here. My tower. It’s easy to find. It’s that tall thing.”

Bruce sat up straight. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“What?”

“My TO-WER. It says my name on it. STARK. Hurry up. I want to see you.”

“But – how do I get in?”

“JARVIS will tell you. Just come.”

Tony hung up on him. Bruce took the phone away from his ear and looked at it for a moment. He was actually just asked to Stark Tower. Bruce was still half-asleep. It wasn’t sinking in properly. Still he got up and put on clothes hastily, not taking as much time on his appearance as usual. Tony was probably just going to take them off as soon as he got there anyway.

Bruce drew a hand through his hair as he left the apartment and tried to find a cab.  
  


***  
  


Stark Tower was still open. Someone was still sitting at the reception and Bruce saw a couple of people moving about the atrium.

The woman at the reception looked up at him and he walked towards her. Her hair was done up, she was dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt – the epitome of stylish office wear. It made Bruce feel spectacularly scruffy.

“Are you Mr. Bishop?”

“Uh, yeah.”

She nodded. If she knew why he was here she was being very professional about it - and a man coming in to see Tony Stark in the early hours in morning looking like he did must have been obvious.

“Please climb those stairs and take the first elevator to the left.”

“The level -?”

“One hundred and twenty eight.”

She smiled at him. Bruce thanked her and climbed the stairs up onto the levelling.

Once he made it to the elevator he noticed how roomy it was. It seemed at least thrice as big as the standard elevator. As Bruce looked at all the buttons he wondered if the size was simply to accommodate how many were needed for all the floors.

The button for the one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth floor was above the other buttons in a small metallic-rimmed box which it shared with twelve other floor numbers. He looked at them curiously before pressing his number.

“Good evening, Mr. Bishop. Or would you prefer morning?”

Bruce looked around confused.

“Are you…Are you some sort of artificial intelligence?” he asked once he realised there was no one around him.

“Yes, that is correct. I was built by Sir to assist him.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. No one could say Tony Stark wasn’t intelligent – maybe a genius by several accounts – but sometimes Bruce forgot. It wasn’t a side of Tony Bruce saw that much of.

The elevator started zooming upwards. It took longer than all the elevators he’d been in but shorter than he thought it would.

Once the door pinged open JARVIS invited him onto the floor.

Bruce stepped into a large lounge with a huge window overlooking the city. It had a modern feel to it with warm wooden flooring and a section of subdued white carpet between a semi-circle of couch seating. Bruce wasn’t a stranger to the showing offs of wealth and the picture of luxury but something about it added to his image of Tony because it was conventional. It was either natural or purposeful, but Tony wasn’t ordinary. But this was. He could imagine several people he knew owning all of this room. Bruce wasn’t sure if was comforting or not.

Bruce was broken from his reverie by a voice coming from the corner of the room.

“Brucie!”

Bruce tried not to flinch at this new nickname.

“I thought you’d never come.”

Tony was sitting by a bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a whiskey bottle next to him on the bar with a significant amount missing.

Bruce walked towards him.

“Are you –uh – drunk?”

“Is there a problem, officer?”

“I’m not sure – if you’ve had too much –“

“Bruce, you are so cute when you talk, but sometimes you’re even cuter when you stop talking,” Tony said as he waggled his finger at Bruce.

Bruce hated it when Tony called him cute.

“Look, it’s just policy, I don’t want you regretting anything –“

Tony laughed. He laughed so suddenly and loudly that it made Bruce jump.

“Brucie, Brucie - you’re the best I’ve ever had. Well, maybe. I think there was a girl in Taiwan…What was her name…”

“Maybe you should go to bed. We’ll do something in the morning?”

“Your lips are moving but all I’m really hearing is ‘yes, Tony, I will give you a blowjob’.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Tony’s high-pitched impression of him.

“Blowjob in the morning.”

“No.”

“Tomorrow. As many as you like. No extra charge.”

“I’m busy tomorrow.”

“We can work around it.”

“I have meetings. And debriefings. So not unless you spend a lot of time under a table.”

“Would you like that?”

“Yeah, I kinda would.”

Bruce smiled minutely.

“So we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” Tony said but looking a bit confused.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.”

Bruce took the glass from Tony’s hand and put it on the table. Tony was shaky on his feet so Bruce had to lead him slightly. It turned out Tony’s motor functions were more affected after alcohol than his speech.

“No, no, that way,” Tony said as he pointed to another door.

Bruce walked Tony into his room and let him fall with a thud onto the large lush bed.

“Undress me, Bruce.”

“No.”

“Pleeaaaaseee.”

“I’ll take off your shoes, ok?”

Tony huffed and rolled onto his back so Bruce could remove his shoes. Bruce put them neatly by the side of the bed.

“Sleep,” Bruce said emphatically before exiting the room and closing the door.

Bruce didn’t want to be in there while Tony was still awake just in case Tony tried anything. He still felt sleepy and didn’t really want to go back to his apartment so Bruce went to the couch instead and made to lie down on that. He wondered if Tony would remember their conversation and if he did whether he’d take Bruce at his word.

Bruce fell back, curled up, and relaxed as his mind lulled him to sleep.  
  


***  
  


“Good morning, Mr Bishop.”

Bruce had opened his eyes and was looking out the windows when he heard the voice. It was an incredible view of the city. It made Bruce pause for a moment, just looking at all the buildings and streets and the intricacies of New York.

“Oh, good morning,” Bruce responded eventually.

“I hope you had a restful sleep, although if you had asked I could have shown you to a guest room.”

“No, it was fine. Probably the best sleep I’ve had on a couch.”

“You are too kind, Mr Bishop.”

“Is Tony up?”

“Sir is not up. It is currently eight am. He is not needed to wake until nine am.”

Bruce looked around him. He didn’t really know what to do with himself.

“Is there a kitchen on this floor?”

“Yes. It is through the door to your right.”

“Am I allowed to use anything?”

“I have no instructions that say otherwise though I trust you to treat Sir’s property with dignity and respect.”

Bruce got up and walked toward where JARVIS had indicated. He found the kitchen easily. It looked like it was hardly ever used. Everything was immaculate and neat and Bruce was hesitant to disturb it.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

There was complicated-looking coffee maker which Bruce eyed warily. There didn’t seem to be anything else to make coffee with and Bruce was certain none of the coffee Tony had was instant. He inspected the machine. It couldn’t be too complicated but Bruce decided against trying just in case he broke something. Instead he rifled through some drawers until he found a saucepan. He found coffee in one of the cupboards but there were numerous kinds. Bruce just took the first one he saw weren’t whole beans. Then Bruce measured out some ground coffee and water into before setting it on the stovetop. He turned the heat on, stirring every now and then.

Sometime later Bruce heard the soft pad of feet. He turned around to see Tony moving past him.

“JARVIS – aspirin?”

“Top cupboard on the right, sir.”

Bruce decided not to stare and turned back to his saucepan. He heard Tony open a cupboard as well as water running in the sink.

“Is that coffee?” Tony asked, glass of water in his hand.

“Yes – uh, JARVIS said it was alright for me to use your kitchen, so –“

“Why are you making it on the stove? There’s a coffee machine right there. I didn’t even know people made it like that.”

“I don’t know how to use it,” Bruce admitted.

“It’s pretty easy.”

Bruce didn’t reply. Instead he stirred the coffee.

“Where’d you learn that, anyway?”

Bruce paused. The truth was he’d learnt it while he was overseas. It was the way a man in Brazil made it. He was the local doctor and they’d struck up a partnership and subsequently a friendship. They worked well and co-ordinated well together. Bruce found himself missing those moments of celebration when a particular difficult disease or injury was cured or mended. He’d put on the stove and brew coffee and smile a smile brighter than the sun. Bruce missed those smiles. There was a time where he almost lived off of them.

“In university,” Bruce lied, quickly breaking out of his reverie, scrambling for ideas. “Our coffee pot broke so we did this instead and in the end we never bothered to replace it.”

“University. The era of laziness.”

Bruce smiled. It had been anything but.

“There enough for me?”

Bruce looked up.

“I don’t think you’ll want this. It’s not that nice.”

“I don’t need nice. I need caffeine. God, why did I drink last night? I’ve got so much to fucking do.”

Bruce waited on edge to see if Tony would bring up more of last night but Tony simply left the kitchen area and sat down at a small table.

Bruce took the saucepan off the heat and got two mugs out of a cupboard after searching for a moment. He poured the coffee in the mugs taking care not to get any of the grounds in it.

“Black,” Tony called out. “Extra black, if you can do that.”

Bruce brought the mugs over and put one of them in front of Tony before sitting next to him.

“I said something to you last night, didn’t I?”

Tony paused.

“Ohh. Yeah, you promised me a blowjob. Or lots of blowjobs. Was there a specification as to how many blowjobs?”

“No.”

“JARVIS, is there any room in my schedule for blowjobs?”

“Sir, you have a meeting with Mr Cook in half an hour. You will need to leave in five minutes to arrive on time.”

“Mr. Cook? The one doing fracking? I thought your work with the arc reactor was to stop reliance on non-renewable energy souces,” Bruce said, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Yeah, I know, fracking makes the earth cry or whatever but my company still needs oil, so I can’t just cut ties with people like Francis Cook. People think it’s hypocritical, but it’s just practical.”

Tony took a sip of his coffee.

“After Cook?” he asked JARVIS.

“The board meeting.”

“Can’t Pepper do that?” Tony asked with a sigh.

“Ms Potts is in Japan currently, Sir.”

“And then?”

“Your lunch break is half an hour, Sir.”

Tony looked pleased.

“You’re not busy, right?”

Bruce pulled out his phone from his pocket and checked his calendar.

_12:30pm – Francis Cook_

He cringed.

“I have a client at 12:30.”

“That is during your lunch break, sir.”

Tony swore lightly.

“Then there is a briefing with Director Fury. I believe after that, as long as the other Avengers do not detain you, you should be home at four.”

“Four?” Tony asked.

“I’ll be available at four,” Bruce said.

“Cool.”

Tony drank deeply as Bruce was stolen away by his thoughts.  
  


***  
  


Having someone after Francis Cook wasn’t something Bruce usually did. Cook was rougher than most and always left marks. All Bruce could hope for was that this time they weren’t too bad. Maybe he could cover them up with makeup.

But today ended up being worse. Bruce could only guess Cook’s meeting with Tony hadn’t gone that well because by the time he was walking into Stark Tower he was limping and he could still feel the painful sting of the welts on his back.

Thankfully Tony wasn’t there yet so Bruce could try to get himself together. He decided not to sit down and just stand, declining JARVIS’ invitation for a seat. Bruce ended up having to wait twenty minutes after much nervous pacing and attempts to get his gait to look normal.

“Punctual as always, huh?” Tony said as he strode in. “Good quality in business. Something I never got the hang of.”

Tony walked around and sat down on one of the couch seats before beckoning Bruce over, a grin plastered on his face. Bruce came to him and carefully manoeuvred himself onto Tony’s lap. He lowered his face to kiss Tony. At first it was gentle but quickly turned rough as tongues met and teeth lightly grazed lips. Bruce felt a throaty moan from Tony as Bruce pressed his palm against the growing erection in his trousers. One of Tony’s arms moved to pull Bruce closer but as his hand pressed against Bruce’s back Bruce flinched considerably.

“What’s wrong?”

Tony was looking up at Bruce with a frown on concern on his face. Bruce hesitated.

“It’s nothing. Sorry.”

Before Tony could say anything Bruce pressed closer against him and began kissing Tony again. They kissed for several minutes before Bruce’s hand undid Tony’s belt and started undoing his fly. He kept his eyes on Tony as he did this, looking at him through his eyelashes. Bruce took Tony’s nearly hard cock and stroked its length. He moved to try and lower himself to the ground but ended up wincing and snapping back to his original position. Bruce was just about to try to get himself on the ground again when Tony grabbed his wrist.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?”

Bruce sighed in defeat.

“Sorry. My previous client was a bit, uh – rough.”

Tony swore quietly.

“I’m sorry – if I’d known he was going to be like that…”

“And your back?”

Bruce stayed silent.

“Take your shirt off.”

Bruce obliged and pre-empted Tony’s instruction to turn around.

“Fucking hell, Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t know what it looked like but he knew it didn’t look good. He was about to speak but Tony beat him to it.

“Stay there, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Bruce heard Tony leave the room as well as what he thought might have been Tony’s zipper being done up. Bruce remained still and quiet until he could hear the sound of Tony’s shoes on the wooden floor.

“Ok, this might be a bit cold.”

Bruce wanted to turn around but before he could he felt something smooth and cool spread across his back. It soothed the heat of his wounds momentarily. Tony’s touch was gentle but Bruce didn’t relax under his hands.

“You shouldn’t let them do this. Don’t you have some sort of policy in line about this kind of thing?”

“It’s accounted for in the price, I think.”

Tony was silent as he continued rubbing in the ointment.

“Who did it?” He finally asked.

“I can’t tell you. Client confidentiality.”

Tony made an irritated noise. Bruce couldn’t think of anything to say. He wasn’t sure what he was _meant_ to say.

“I want you to stay. You know, here.”

Bruce’s mind stilled and it felt like ice was flowing through him.

“I’ve got a room you could have. It’s better than your current place.”

“Are you suggesting that I…” The words froze on Bruce’s lips.

“Don’t see anyone else, yeah.”

Bruce felt a spike of anxiety flare up in his chest. If he said yes that would mean he’d be stuck here. There’d be no real way to tune Tony out. He’d be surrounded by Tony and what Tony owned. Those quiet moments, those moments where it was just Bruce back in his apartment – they would be gone.

But this was just what his employer wanted all gift-wrapped and tied up with a little bow.

“You’ll have to ask my employers,” Bruce found himself saying.

He felt detached.

“Just wondered what you thought."

Bruce had the sudden urge to run away; to leave this place, this city, this country. To run as far away as he could, back to those run-down slums and ghettoes where he felt anonymous and where he knew he helped people. He used to actually help people. A terror seized him as though this was the finality – the last nail in the coffin – of his previous life. That agreeing to be here, to live and to essentially be owned by Tony would kill those days. They would become strangled and grow lifeless just as surely as his days before his exposure to gamma radiation had been.

His soul was in anguish as he said the words in a convincingly light tone:

“I would be glad to.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the beauty of Ingrid Bergman (and by me projecting my love of Hollywood stars onto fictional characters).
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and as always, tell me what you think.
> 
> On another note: next week's update will probably be late because I'm busier than usual this week and also my chapters keep getting longer. But I'll see how it goes.

Bruce was expecting the phone call in the morning. It was big news and he was certain Tony contacted Bruce’s employer nearly straight away. Tony had seemed genuinely concerned. Bruce found that laughable.

It was just after six when Bruce got the text.

_Take the black car outside. We need to see you._

Bruce raked his hand through his hair. His employer wanted to see him. They hadn’t met face-to-face since this whole mess started.

Bruce straightened himself out before leaving his apartment.  
  


***  
  


After fifteen minutes the car pulled up to an abandoned factory warehouse. It looked incredibly ominous and the deathly silent driver didn’t add to Bruce’s sense of ease.

The driver opened his door and Bruce followed suit, climbing out and shutting the car door behind him.

“Follow me,” the driver said in a gruff Brooklyn accent.

Bruce acquiesced.

The sun was setting as Bruce’s footsteps met with the crunch of gravel. A tall old factory building stood before them. They entered through a metal door, similarly coloured to the exterior, which creaked sharply when the driver opened it. Within Bruce spotted a couple of florescent lights hanging above a table. There was a man on the side opposite but he was enveloped by the shadow set off by the lights.

“Bruce!”

The voice was deceptively warm and kind. Bruce recognised it immediately.

“Why don’t you take a seat?”

There was a rickety old chair on the side nearest Bruce and opposite to the man. Bruce walked forward, betraying no emotion, and sat down.

He saw in front of him several manila folders – a few of them significantly thick.

“You know, Bruce, when I offered you that deal all those many months ago it was actually on a whim. Part of me just wanted to see the look on Lt Ross’ face. I never would have believed that that face of yours would catch the eye of one Mr Tony Stark.”

A hand emerged from the darkness, wizened and veiny, and placed itself on one of the folders.

“You must have wondered why I didn’t just choose a woman for this job but the female seductress is so old hat. It’s been much more fun monitoring you.”

Bruce stayed quiet, his eyes on the folders.

“You have nothing to say? Well, I digress. I’m here to congratulate you. You’ve done very well. I’ve half a mind to do you a favour.”

He paused and Bruce recognised it as an opportunity.

“Charity. Donate some money to charity,” he blurted out.

The man laughed. It echoed throughout the building.

“Really, Dr Banner? Is that all you have left?”

“If I wanted something else, I could probably get Stark to get it for me.”

He tried to sound casual but it didn’t work. Just being in the man’s presence made him feel like he was back in the military facility. There was some instinctual part of Bruce’s brain that associated him with the pain and torment he’d experienced. It was hard to break.

“That’s true, that’s true. Now – you are, Dr Banner, to all intents and purposes – dead. That hasn’t mattered so far because we’ve given you your alias: Bruce Bishop. That’s all you’ve ever needed. But now you are about to enter into Tony Stark’s life to be in close association to him. He has top security. He works with SHIELD, he has an artificial intelligence system which has a wealth of information available to him at the blink of an eye, and he lives with four other Avengers – one of whom is possibly one of the greatest spies in the world. You see the problem, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So I’ve painstakingly created for you a past.”

The man flipped open one of the folders.

“Your parents,” he flicked through some papers, “the schools you went to,” he flicked a page again, “your qualifications, medical records, the amount of times you’ve been to the dentist in the past year –“ he continued to flick through them.

“All of this. You need to remember all of this. Where ever there are blanks, make something up. Don’t let slip anything that could complicate matters. Avoid specifics where possible, but not to the point of looking too secretive. This is important.”

Bruce was taking it all in slowly, already memorising some of the information before him when he noticed the man was leaning forward – his face entering the light for the first time.

They were the same features Bruce remembered: the sharp eyes, the thin lips, the straight nose, and the receding hairline that made his forehead look unusually large. He might have been handsome once but time seemed to be deteriorating his looks fast.

“If you are caught, Bruce, if they find out you are anything other than what you say, you will be done. I cannot save you. I hardly need remind you of what will happen should your supply of those little white pills be cut off, hmm?”

Bruce twitched.

“Now the second part. There is something very particular I want you to do, Bruce. There are some very particular things that Stark has which would be of great value to me…”

*

Moving to Stark Tower was a short affair. All that Bruce wanted to take with him could easily fit in a small cardboard box with the exception of his suits. He decided to only take a few with him just in case Tony wanted to choose what he wore. Bruce really had no idea what this arrangement would mean beyond the obvious. He didn’t know if Tony intended to keep him locked up in his tower or whether he intended to show him off like a trophy wife. He didn’t know how controlling Tony would be, or whether he’d even care about him except for when they fucked.

Bruce brought his small box of things to the incredibly conspicuous black limo which was parked just outside his apartment. He slipped it into the car before telling the chauffeur that he still had his suits to get.

Inside his apartment he nervously opened one of the drawers in his room. There was a small hidden compartment at the back which Bruce eased it opened and from it removed an antique snuffbox. He lifted the lid and saw five white pills inside.

Bruce sighed with relief. He took a small pillbox out of his pocket and put the capsules inside, snapping it shut. He put the snuffbox back and closed the drawer.

Next Bruce moved to the bathroom. Behind the toilet there was a tile that had been loosened. Bruce crouched down and gingerly removed it. Within, beneath a pipe, was a cell phone.

Right where he said it would be.

The idea was that every five days when he’d come to pick up his pills he would contact his employer using whatever phone was found in the hiding spot. The number was never to be saved. The call history, the texts – they were to be deleted as soon as plausible.

Strictly speaking he wasn’t meant to talk to his employer anymore. As Bruce understood it, he’d essentially been ‘transferred’ to Tony. Bruce was now the one getting paid directly. All communication should be closed off.

The number Bruce was to contact them on was a new one. He quickly hoped he’d remembered it correctly as he sent the message:

_Moving out now._

Bruce assumed that should be enough. He deleted it immediately, turned it off before putting the phone back in its place. Bruce then quickly went to grab the suits. He was worried the chauffeur would become suspicious. As it happened, Bruce found him sitting in the front seat singing along to the radio without a care in the world. It should have made Bruce feel bitter, but it just made him smile.  
  


***  
  


“And that’s where you’ll sleep,” Tony said as he opened a door to a large bedroom with a luxurious bed and extravagantly decorated. Bruce didn’t like it. It was too big and full of too much.

“You can change any of this, of course. Just tell JARVIS.”

Bruce’s cardboard box was on the floor. Someone must have brought it up.

“Are those your things? Wow, you weren’t kidding about not having much.”

“I brought some clothes with me as well.”

“Clothes? What do you need clothes for? I was just going to have you walk around naked.”

Tony was grinning at him and there was a recognisable spark of mischief in his eyes.

“That’s still negotiable,” Bruce said in a quiet voice.

Tony smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

“What else? You’ve seen the kitchen – oh, this has a bathroom by the way, just through that door – and you’ve seen my room…There’s a dining room but I never use it. There’s a music room with stereos and pianos and whatever, a gaming room, and a private movie theatre… I think that’s about it for this level. There’s a pool downstairs with a sauna and a steam room – don’t know if you like swimming – and the Avengers live on the two levels below us, if they’re not off doing something else, and Steve Rogers – you know, Captain America – is currently trying to make a library because he apparently likes books. He mostly reads battle strategy books and fantasy novels. It’s weird. Uhh there must be…Oh yeah, there’s my workshop. If I’m not here I’m probably there. Though you can just ask JARVIS if you need me and he’ll find me for you.”

It was a lot to take in. Bruce’s brain was mostly stuck on the idea that at some point he would probably meet the Avengers. It made him a little nervous. They’d be more curious than Tony. And he remembered his employer saying one of them was basically a super spy.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just processing it,” Bruce replied.

“Well,” Tony said, clasping his hands together, “I’ve got work to do. There are movies, and games, and just ask JARVIS if you need anything.”

Tony squeezed Bruce’s ass before walking away, turning around once to wink.

Bruce stood there for a moment, rubbing the back of his head. He decided to unpack his things – one of which was a new book he’d been hoping to start. He took the book to the lounge, sat down, opened the cover, and began to read.  
  


***  
  


The next few days fell into a pretty steady pattern. Tony wasn’t home most of the time and when he was home he was usually sleeping. His hours weren’t regular but if they had sex it was usually at night. Every so often Tony would start something out of the blue – propositioning to fuck Bruce against the kitchen counter when Bruce was just there to make a sandwich, or when Bruce was reading, just tug the book out of his hands and take him on the couch.

Besides that, Bruce pretty much spent all his time reading. Now he had the time, and JARVIS the ability to order in just about anything he chose, Bruce found himself able to read all the things he had never read before. Detective novels, science fiction, fantasy, the classics, history books, biographies – he ordered in a few science books just to prove he did have an interest but they were fairly basic ones that Bruce had read probably when he was back in junior high. He toyed with the idea of getting JARVIS to order some of his own papers and theses just to see if Tony would be impressed that he was reading something of the prestigious Dr Bruce Banner. It was short-lived as it was obviously too risky, but also because Tony didn’t seem the least bit interested in him. Bruce had never felt like an object so much in his life. Like a laboratory was for working, like a bed was for sleep, like food was for eating, Tony seemed to think Bruce was for sex.

Bruce had to remind himself when he lay awake at night that that was his job. It had been his job to do this for over a year but somehow now it was just one person and he was solely at their beck and call…

It was just that look. The way Tony brushed him off when he was finished. There was a smile, a goodbye, sometimes even a thank you – but then there it was. It wasn’t just a look of indifference. It was a look that showed he no longer had the awareness of Bruce’s presence to even _be_ indifferent. The moment had passed for Tony and his mind was already somewhere else.

It made Bruce feel lonely.

*

It was the fourth day since Bruce had moved in. Bruce was lounging on the sofa reading the latest Blake Morris’ scientific journal when he heard the elevator open. He looked at the clock on the wall briefly. One o’clock in the afternoon. Unusual.

He peered over the sofa and saw someone who was unmistakeably _not_ Tony Stark.

With the neatly parted blonde hair, the handsome features, the chiselled jaw line, and well-muscled chest apparent even with a shirt on, it was impossible not to recognise Captain America for who he was.

Bruce felt confused for a moment.

“Tony’s not here,” he told Captain America.

Captain America looked over to see Bruce’s head.

“Are you Mr Bishop?”

Bruce paused for a moment. No one had referred to him by his fake surname in a while.

“Yes?”

“Oh, hi, I’m Steve Rogers.”

Steve held out his hand and Bruce took it. It was a good firm handshake.

“Tony mentioned you were staying here. I thought, well, maybe you wanted to watch a movie together?”

Bruce rubbed his forehead briefly.

“Sure.”  
  


***  
  


They’d decided to watch the movie downstairs in the Avengers’ common area. Steve mentioned that’s where they had movie nights even though Tony’s private movie theatre was better. Bruce had wanted to leave Tony’s apartment anyway. He was tired of being stuck in there.

It was just Bruce and Steve. Bruce didn’t know where the other Avengers were and didn’t ask.

“Do you want anything to eat? We have popcorn and soda and that sort of thing.”

“Uh, sure. Whatever you like. I don’t mind.”

“Ok, I’ll just be a moment. Make yourself at home,” Steve said, indicating towards the couch with a small gesture.

Bruce nodded before Steve left the room. Bruce put his hands in his pockets and moved to take a seat. The TV was one of the largest he’d ever seen. Understandably the couch was situated more than several feet away from it. There was a sound system with two speakers either side of the screen. There were several different gaming consoles beneath the TV that sat on a table and shelving unit. Bruce couldn’t see any DVDs nearby which led him to believe that somehow they were all stored on the TV or on a wireless server.

Bruce was pondering this and how he couldn’t actually recall the last movie he’d seen when Steve returned with a huge bowl of popcorn and two cans of sprite.

He sat beside Bruce, handed him a can, and put the bowl of popcorn between them. Bruce thanked him for the soda but didn’t open it. He didn’t really like cold sugary drinks and he was regretting that he was too remiss to have mentioned it.

“So what movie do you want to watch?” Steve asked.

Bruce shrugged.

“Tony’s always trying to get me to watch modern ones,” Steve said with a wry smile.

“Oh right. That makes sense.”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t let you watch old Hollywood movies then?”

Steve smiled.

“Well it’s not that, it’s just he has a lot of suggestions.”

Bruce mused for a moment.

“We could watch an old movie, if you want.”

He remembered Betty used to take him to showings of black and white films sometimes. It wasn’t that she was a big fan; it was just that she liked the style of them as a change from the current movies. Bruce had liked them well enough.

“Really?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.”

Bruce watched Steve thinking for a while.

“Well…There was a film with Ingrid Bergman in it that I didn’t go see.”

Bruce didn’t recognise the name but didn’t comment.

“Actually, I was a bit scared to go see it. Buc- my friend made fun of me for it.”

“What film?”

“Oh, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. My friend told me it wasn’t that great but there was a scene with Ingrid Bergman that I would have liked.”

Bruce smiled to himself. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Of course it would be that.

“You alright with watching that?”

There was a faint air of excitement about Steve now.

“Yeah.”

“JARVIS – uh, can you play Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde?”

“1941 version, Mr Rogers?”

“Yes please, JARVIS.”

“Very well. Shall I also lower the lights?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

The lights in the room faded slowly and the movie came on the screen, the black and white title cards appearing accompanied by dramatic music. Bruce felt himself relax and allowed himself to take some popcorn. There was a strange mixture of contentment and anxiety in his chest; as though somehow the pleasance of doing something as simple as watching a movie with someone was in constant jeopardy from some unknown force.

But he was still enjoying himself – even if this film and the book it was based on seemed to him like some bizarre work inspired by his own life and struggle with his ‘alter ego’. Or maybe it was the other way round. Life and art; which imitates which.

Bruce ate some more popcorn and shrugged.  
  


***  
  


Bruce figured out who Ingrid Bergman was the moment her face was shown on screen by a soft inhalation from Steve. He was leaning forward slightly now, Bruce noted. Ingrid Bergman must have been his celebrity crush growing up. The way Steve was watching the film with utmost interest made Bruce suddenly see something that wasn’t just Captain America – the universal icon, the hero. In that moment all he saw was a teenage boy who went to see movies, who grew nervous around girls, who went to school, who was bullied, who did normal things – and it was so surprising to really see that scrawny Steve Rogers from history books within the huge super soldier that was sitting beside him. Bruce had learnt about Steve’s past at school but knowing a fact and observing it were entirely different things.

Bruce had to stop himself from laughing at Steve when the scene led to Dr Jekyll taking Ingrid Bergman’s character (Ivy) in her room. Ivy was doing her very best to seduce Dr Jekyll. When she took off her blouse to reveal her corset Steve started to fidget. Bruce just sat and smiled as Ivy removed her garters. He was a bit sad when the scene ended. Bruce was enjoying watching Steve’s reactions to the film than the film itself.

After Dr Jekyll created his alter ego Mr Hyde, Bruce became more contemplative. They were so similar yet different. Mr Hyde sought after immorality, whereas the Other Guy sought after destruction. But the fact remained that both Dr Jekyll and Bruce himself had been arrogant with their scientific endeavours. Fiction had the benefit of being allegorical, of having structure and meaning. Bruce’s life wasn’t like that. No, he’d done more damage than good, in the end. And he wouldn’t get a climatic death scene where all his faults are bared, and some audience would take something away from his failings. This was it – the chaos of life. It was just something Bruce had had to learn to live with.

He watched the film unfold; Ivy becoming ensnared with Mr Hyde, taken from being a barmaid to being put up in a fancy apartment and given fancy clothes. She was being terrified by Mr Hyde, who had a complete and horrifying control of her life, keeping her locked up in an expensive apartment. Mr Hyde was tormenting her now, as she quaked in fear of him, trying to guess what he wanted her to say. As Bruce was pondering on the sorts of destructiveness and pain his and Dr Jekyll’s other selves caused, and which was ultimately less desirable, he noticed Steve was watching him.

Bruce turned to meet his gaze.

“Sorry. I know that this – uh, it might be – I didn’t know it’d be in the movie.”

Bruce paused for a moment. His eyes flicked from the screen then back to Steve. It dawned on him.

“Oh, no, Tony’s never done anything like that,” Bruce said, a little sardonically.

On Steve’s face was a look of abject horror.

“Tony would never do that! He’d never beat you or treat you in any way like that. What makes you think he would?”

Steve’s sudden passion took Bruce aback.

“I…”

“If he has hurt you or offended you, I can promise it wasn’t his intent. He cares about you.”

“He _cares_ about me?”

Steve nodded sternly before breaking eye contact.

“It was his idea. He said you should do something other than just sitting around reading books.”

“He watches me?”

Steve scratched the back of his head.

“JARVIS probably told him. JARVIS records everything and tells Tony if he notices anything important.”

Bruce tried not to let his sudden sense of unease appear on his face. Not only was he being watched but an artificial intelligence system was monitoring it with its own complex programming to alert of anything it deemed important.

He was constantly being watched; even in moments like this. Bruce wondered how the others could trust Tony this much. How Steve didn’t even seem to be bothered by it.

“Sorry, I’m not sure if I was meant to tell you. It’s just – he’s not really a bad guy. I’m sure if you have any concerns he’ll be happy to hear you out.”

“Sure.”

They continued to both watch the film. Bruce couldn’t stop thinking. After ten minutes he turned to Steve again.

“Don’t you mind that JARVIS records everything?”

Steve looked at Bruce, a little bewildered.

“Well, not really. There are some, uh, privacy things in place, I know that. I don’t really understand a lot of it. You could ask Tony.”

“Ok.”

Bruce couldn’t imagine Tony not getting curious, if not suspicious, if Bruce asked him something like that.

Bruce decided to forget about it for now and just watch the film.  
  


***  
  


After the movie had finished Steve took Bruce back to Tony’s apartment. It made him feel a bit like a girl being walked home after a date. He felt a similar kind of elation. Hanging out with Steve had been oddly therapeutic.

When Steve waved goodbye and told Bruce that he’d had a good time and he looked forward to seeing Bruce again soon, Bruce thought he might actually swoon.

It wasn’t that he was actually interested in Steve, Bruce knew that. It was just for the first time in a long time that he felt like someone was taking an interest in him that wasn’t superficial or of a physical nature.

It made him smile.

It made him feel _alive_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late and shorter than usual but hey, I said I had a busy week. Hope it's ok.

It had been a couple of hours since Steve had left Bruce at Tony’s apartment. Tony and Bruce were lying naked on Tony’s bed amidst rumpled sheets; Tony on his stomach, arms cradling a pillow that his head sat upon, facing towards Bruce. He was looking at Bruce who was staring up at the ceiling, an arm draped across his forehead.

“What are you thinking about?” Tony asked, almost mumbling.

“What?” Bruce responded in a quiet voice.

Bruce turned slightly to meet Tony’s eyes.

“You were thinking.”

Bruce remained quiet for a moment.

“Am I allowed to go out of the tower?”

Tony frowned.

“Sure, I guess. Just not too late.”

“So I have a curfew?”

“Don’t want you to get in trouble. Don’t want to come home to no Bruce.”

Bruce looked back up at the ceiling. He wasn’t too concerned with not being able to go out at night. He was more worried about being able to get back to his old apartment to get his pills. Bruce had his pill for tomorrow but not the day after. He needed to get them soon.

“What you want to do anyway?”

Tony’s sleepy voice disturbed Bruce’s thoughts.

“Just walk around, look at things,” Bruce replied, hoping that didn’t sound as suspicious as he thought it did.

“If you want to go shopping tell JARVIS. He’ll give you money.”

Tony shuffled a bit.

“Quiet time now,” he then said, closing his eyes and rubbing his head into the soft pliancy of the pillow.

Tony fell asleep almost immediately. It took Bruce a little longer to finally drift off.  
  


***  
  


Bruce walked into the kitchen wearing khakis and no shirt. He yawned quietly and turned on the coffee machine. Bruce was slowly figuring out how to use it properly. He got something out of it that tasted like coffee and since that was the point, he was more or less happy with it.

Bruce just finished making two cups of coffee when he heard the unfamiliar sound of heels click clacking against the wooden floor.

“Tony, I don’t know what you’ve been doing for the past few days, but that report on –“

A woman came into view and stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Bruce. Her red hair was done up in a small bun and she was wearing a white blouse and pencil skirt. She looked impeccable and Bruce tried to pretend he wasn’t standing around in the kitchen half-naked but the way she was staring wasn't helping.

“Where’s Tony? And what are you doing here?”

“Oh, he’s still in bed. And uh, Tony hasn’t mentioned me?”

“Should he have?”

Bruce scratched behind his ear.

“He said he’d be up soon. Do you want some coffee?”

The woman gave him a hard look.

“No, thank you. JARVIS, can you tell Tony to –“

“Pepper! How are you? Man, it feels like a good day today. That coffee for me Bruce? Thanks. Oh, yeah, Pepper – I’ve told you about Bruce, right?”

“No, Tony. You very much haven’t.”

“Well he has sex with me for money. And makes me coffee sometimes. Cool, right?”

Tony went to take a sip of his coffee but found it too hot.

“Are you joking? Please tell me you’re joking.”

She looked at Bruce, who shook his head.

“Ok. Ok. And this is an on-going thing?”

“Yeah, he lives here.”

“He _lives_ –“

Pepper tried to repeat Tony but had to stop. She took a few deep breaths.

“Tony. We need to talk. _Now_.”

She started to walk out of the room. Tony gave Bruce a whimsical expression.

“Don’t worry,” he mouthed to Bruce before following her through a door and closing it behind him.

Bruce stood there for a moment before picking up his own cup of coffee and moving to sit down at the small table. He stared blankly into the mug. Bruce was still too sleepy for worried thoughts to properly form in his mind. But he felt nervous and tapped at the mug with his fingernails until he realised he could hear the soft murmur of voices behind the clinking.

“A prostitute, Tony? Really? Do you understand what would happen if the press got hold of this?”

Bruce couldn’t make out Tony’s response but Pepper didn’t sound too happy.

“…Have you even cleared him with security?”

“What? No. I don’t want to scare him off.”

“You don’t want to scare him off?”

Tony’s response was spoken in a low voice and once again Bruce struggled to make out any words. Even Pepper became less audible. Bruce sat for a few quiet moments, taking a slow sip of his coffee.

“I’ll get Natasha to check him out, ok? If she doesn’t find anything, then SHIELD probably won’t either. But seriously, there’s no way he’s a spy. He’s just…Bruce.”

“Tony, you know spies are meant to make you think they’re not spies, right? That’s the whole point. Remember Natalie Rushman? And do you actually know anything about him?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“He doesn’t like fracking.”

“Right. That’s it?”

“He reads a lot, and he went to college.”

“He says he went to college.”

“Who lies about going to college? What a boring thing to lie about.”

Their voices dimmed out again. Bruce decided he’d heard all he needed and got up from the table to place his empty mug on the kitchen bench. He simply stood for a moment, just thinking.

Bruce knew there would come a point where he’d probably be under scrutiny but the idea was terrifying now the realisation was dawning on him just how fragile his situation was. Bruce quickly tried to run over all the information in his mind about his new identity. He hoped he’d memorised it correctly.

He wondered why Tony had such faith in him. Maybe Bruce was doing that good a job, or maybe Tony was just easy to fool when it came to sex. Either way he was glad to have Tony on his side.

Tony and Pepper walked in through the door. Tony smiled when he met Bruce’s eyes. Pepper just looked annoyed, and maybe even a little worried, but she tried to smile, even if it was a little strained.

“You’ll finish the report today, right?” she asked Tony.

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he said.

“JARVIS, please make sure he does. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of the Board again.”

“Of course, Miss Potts.”

“Tonight, Tony,” Pepper said. On the way out she turned to look at Bruce. It seemed as though she was about to speak but at the last moment she looked away, striding out of the room.

Tony waited until she was gone before speaking.

“So that’s Pepper. She’s the CEO, if you didn’t already know that.”

“I wish I’d worn a shirt.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s caught people in my kitchen wearing less. Anyway I don’t see a problem with it,” Tony said, eyeing Bruce. “Oh, and this is just a PR thing, but if anyone asks who isn’t Pepper, me, or the Avengers, you’re not actually a prostitute.”

“Then what do I say I am?”

“A reformed prostitute.”

Tony smiled and Bruce wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.

“Anyway I’ve got work to do. Pepper might actually kill me if I don’t get this done. See you, Brucie.”

Tony grabbed an apple from a fruit bowl, tossing it up in the air as he walked off. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before making himself a sandwich.  
  


***  
  


It had only been four days since he’d moved in but once Bruce stepped out of Stark Tower he realised it’d felt like so much longer. The sky was clear and blue, but in the distance he could see scattered white clouds drifting slowly across the heavens. It was a refreshing sight and the sensation of the sun’s light against his skin was a welcome one.

It had been strange coming down the elevator this time. There was a flurry of people moving from one floor to the next, rushing, talking on phones, flicking through papers, holding multiple cups of coffee, and so on. Bruce guessed Tony must have his own personal elevator to get up and down with but Bruce had just gone with the elevator he had found.

The atrium had a lot of people but seemed less overwhelming after the chaos of the elevator. He made his way out of the glass doors which separated the building from the outside pavement and saw a limo in front of him, just to his left. A man stepped out whom Bruce recognised as his driver from the day he had moved out of his apartment.

“Hi, I’m Harold Hogan. Mr Stark said you’d be needing someone to drive you around today.”

“In a limo?” Bruce asked in disbelief.

Hogan looked personally offended.

“What’s wrong with a limo?”

“No, it’s just…I was thinking of just taking a walk in the park.”

Hogan sighed and mumbled something about never getting to drive anyone anywhere.

“Uh, sorry. If I ever do need a ride…”

“Yeah,” Hogan said somewhat bitterly.

Bruce gave Hogan a strained smile before walking towards the street. Central Park was nearby, so Bruce kept to his word and made towards that.

Bruce’s apartment was about a twenty minute walk south of Central Park. He was almost completely sure no one was watching him but he couldn’t stop worrying over the possibility. Maybe Natasha had already been put on his trail. Bruce just couldn’t be sure.

Bruce walked along the pavement somewhat quickly, trying not to catch anyone’s eye. He didn’t really pay too much attention to anything around him but every now and then he glimpsed over his shoulder as though expecting someone to be there.

The feeling didn’t really go away and by the time he made it to his old apartment Bruce’s heart was pounding like a drum. He made it up the stairs and took out his key and slid it into the lock, twisting it open with a quiet click. He wrenched the key back out and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers before entering and closing the door behind him.

Bruce gave a shaky sigh as he walked into the all-too-familiar apartment. There was an air of nostalgia about it that Bruce would have liked to submerge himself in but he had things to do, and he couldn’t be away for too long in case someone came looking for him.

He opened the drawer and found his pills which he pocketed. Bruce moved into the bathroom and took out the phone. He paused, wondering what to write. Then he let his thumbs move over the buttons.

_Settling in well. Making friends with the Captain too._

Bruce’s thumb hovered over the send button before finally pressing it. He felt a tinge of guilt. He was bringing Steve into this.

Bruce sat with his back against the wall, his hand loosely over his mouth. He waited about five minutes before he felt the phone vibrate. He opened the message.

_Good. Keep the Captain on your side. I want something more substantial next time, is that agreeable?_

Bruce grimaced. He deleted the message before shoving the phone back in his place and hiding it with the loose tile.

Five days to get information. Though it was ten days, really; he already had pills for the next five. After they’re gone and he comes back to the apartment the new pills will be there, regardless of whether he’d found something or not.

Maybe it was doable. Bruce ran his fingers through his hair before standing up and making his way back to Stark Tower.  
  


***  
  


Bruce wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked into Tony’s apartment. It wasn’t sure if it was the exercise or the temperature outside, but his face was really sweaty.

He stopped, surprised, when he saw Tony sitting on the couch looking at something on his Starkpad.

“Happy says you didn’t go with him,” Tony said without looking up.

“Happy?” Bruce asked, confused.

“The chauffeur. Never smiles. It’s an ironic nickname apparently. He used to box, you know.”

“Then why does he drive cars?”

“Because he was crap. Embarrassingly bad. Don’t tell him I said that. You’ve already hurt his feelings enough today.”

“I just wanted to walk…”

“Yeah. Central Park, he said. Was it nice?”

“It was a nice day,” Bruce said cautiously. Maybe Tony was testing him. Maybe he had been followed, and Tony just wanted to see if Bruce would lie.

“Yeah,” Tony agreed disinterestedly. He then pulled up a three dimensional image on his Starkpad, examining it carefully.

Bruce stepped forward quietly, trying to see what it was, but Tony had started flicking through shapes, and parts, and it became a whirl of information that Bruce couldn’t interpret.

“What is that?” Bruce asked.

“A stupid idea I had. I mean, it might turn out brilliant, but really just I came up with to pass the time.”

Bruce kept looking, trying to understand. Tony noticed and looked towards him.

“You really want to know, huh?”

“I’ve just never seen…”

“Oh, this hologram tech? Here, have a go.”

Tony handed it over to a surprised Bruce.

“Really?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. You just…you move your fingers like that, and that’ll pull the whole thing up.”

The image of something that looked like an engine floated before Bruce.

“And to get specific stuff you just find the little –“

Bruce tried to pull up something from the rear end of the hologram but then the image started spinning like a spinning top, entirely a blur.

“Oh.”

“Hey, don’t worry. It takes a bit practice for people who aren’t me.”

Tony took the Starkpad back from Bruce and turned it off. Bruce thought he knew what was coming next but Tony surprised him.

“So, I’ve been thinking…you’ve only met Steve, right? None of the other Avengers. We’re planning on having drinks tonight. You should come.”

Bruce looked shocked. Tony laughed.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask you to things?”

“Of…of course you are. I was just surprised.”

Tony shrugged.

“We’re all meeting up around nine in the lounge on floor 127. You’re good with that?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Bruce said, somewhat distantly.

“Cool,” Tony said before standing up and leaving, patting Bruce on the shoulder on his way past.

Tonight he was meeting Natasha. Bruce was somewhat relieved that he had the afternoon to go over his new identity and figure out the sort of information she’d want to know. It was like preparing for an exam, he told himself. Bruce had taken enough as a student and written enough of them as a professor at Culver. That’s all it is, he told himself as he went to retrieve a book.

Bruce spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to read, flicking the page at appropriate intervals, as he went through everything he could in his mind.

Bruce had always been good at exams. Maybe he could actually do this. He had to at least think he could. The alternative was to give in to despair; to surrender before the fight. And Bruce never stood down from a fight when he needed to win. Not when it really mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am genuinely really sorry that this is so late. I had a lot of trouble writing this, and then some other stuff came up. But worry not, for here I return.
> 
> Thank you everyone who leaves kudos, and especially those who comment. I actually giggle like a giddy schoolgirl when I read your comments sometimes. It's true.
> 
> Note: I've only just realised that Bruce's alias 'Barnes' is Bucky's last name. I feel really stupid about that. I kind of just took a name from one of the aliases David Banner uses in The Incredible Hulk TV series. So I've changed it to 'Bishop' and I'll be going back and fixing that in previous chapters. I'm sorry if that confused people. I am just an idiot sometimes.

Bruce tried to breathe evenly as he made his way down in the elevator. Steve was going to be there. A super spy assassin was too, but even she couldn’t pull him apart after just one meeting; not when she didn't even know there was anything to pull him apart over.

He was so nervous. He kept thinking about Steve and it gave him the strength to walk through the doors and on into the room. Bruce could hear voices – a deep one that seemed to resonate slightly, a quieter female voice, and a loud boisterous laugh. He followed the sounds until he reached the area where Bruce had watched Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde with Steve. From where he was he could make out the back of the head of a tall buff blond man. He had a clear view of a red-haired woman who was leaning into the edge of the cushioning of the sofa, her legs crossed and a glass of clear liquid in her hand. Beside her sat a man with somewhat hardened features though they were in a light smile as Bruce watched him. Bruce was just about directly behind Steve.

He was starting to wonder where Tony was when he came through a door holding a glass of whiskey, two ice cubes swirling in time with his movement.

“Hey, Bruce!”

Tony walked over and put his arms around Bruce’s shoulders.

“So – everyone, this is Bruce.”

“Really? That’s Bruce?” the man next to the red-haired woman asked incredulously. Then he settled into a slight grin. “But Tony, he actually looks like he might be in your age group. Surely there’s been a mistake.”

“I know, sometimes I surprise myself. I was never that into younger guys, though.”

“Oh, right. So what about the time in Australia? And there was that guy in Arizona. Oh, and Nat – where was that thing with the guy who locked Tony out of his hotel room after a fight –“

“The pink umbrella incident?”

“Ah, that was classic. My favourite tabloid story of ’06.”

“Ok, firstly, I don’t know why you remembered all that – and secondly…wait, you have favourite tabloid stories?”

“I get bored on missions. Crappy gossip magazines help.”

The man leant forward and grabbed a beer from the table.

“Oh, I’m Clint by the way. Hawkeye. And that’s Natasha,” he said pointing at the red-haired woman next to him who smiled. “She can kill a man using only her pinky finger. I know because I saw her do it.”

He whispered the last sentence conspiratorially, loud enough for everyone to hear. Natasha just shook her head chidingly.

Bruce didn’t know what to think. Clint seemed more eccentric than Tony and if Natasha was the spy assassin – well, she looked nowhere near as intimidating as he thought she would.

“And that’s Thor,” Tony said, indicating the blond man. “He’s a Norse god.”

“Well met!” Thor said, raising a beer glass. “You must be proud to be chosen by a man so distinguished as the Man of Iron!”

Bruce just nodded, pushing down his emotions.

“And you know Cap. So there. Everyone knows everyone,” Tony said. “You can sit down and uh, what do you want to drink? Martini? Dirty?”

Tony winked. Clint groaned.

“Seriously?” Clint asked Tony before turning to Bruce. “Just have beer.” He addressed Tony again: “Normal people don’t sit around drinking martinis together. Normal people drink beer. Or bourbon. Or something.”

“Well I haven’t had a beer in a while,” Bruce admitted, slowly realising that maybe Clint was already a little bit drunk.

Tony laughed. “Yeah, he’s been on a pure champagne and cocktail diet. You really want to break that streak, Bruce?”

“I don’t want to drink anything too alcoholic.”

“Lightweight?” Tony asked.

“Not exactly. I just don’t like –“

 _The feeling of losing control_ , Bruce wanted to say but amended it.

“- getting hangovers.”

 “Sure,” Tony said, patting him on the shoulder. “I get that.”

Tony left the room again to get Bruce a beer. Bruce sat down next to Steve and smiled at him.

He didn’t get time to speak to him, however, as Natasha suddenly spoke up.

“So how’d you and Tony meet? He hasn’t actually told us.”

“At a charity event. Tony was doing a speech there,” Bruce replied, hands uncomfortably awkward on either side of his thighs.

“Oh that must have been great,” Clint commented with glee. “What was the charity?”

“It was to do with marine conservation. Tony decided it wasn’t worth his money part way through the speech.”

Natasha must have seen something in his face, because she tilted her head ever-so-slightly and said:

“You didn’t like him, did you?”

“Well – no, I mean – I do now. He’s great.”

Bruce cringed internally, knowing how false he sounded. He didn’t see a response from Natasha though. She was just smiling good-naturedly.

“None of us did when we first met him.”

“I thought him a mighty warrior,” Thor put in, frowning.

“Thor, you tried to kill him,” Clint said.

“I assure you that was not my intent. It was a friendly skirmish.”

Everyone else’s expressions spoke otherwise.

“And Cap – you got into an argument with him, right?” Clint asked.

Steve sighed.

“We were meant to do a mission together. It was the first time we were being teamed up – this was before the Avengers were formed. He had a problem with basic battle strategy and following orders.”

“What changed? Because it’s fine now, right?” Bruce asked.

Clint laughed.

“Aww man, no. There’s nothing ‘fine’ about being in a team with Tony.”

Bruce looked at him, confused.

“It’s like breaking in a new shoe,” Natasha mused. “You get used to him, he gets used to you, you find a way to make it work.”

“Don’t you find that? Maybe it’s not the same thing but you know. It’s still Tony,” Clint asked Bruce.

Bruce paused.

“I don’t know. I don’t really…He doesn’t really…I just do my job.”

“Yeah, but surely you’ve tried to get stuff out of him. I mean, you get paid for doing, you know, your job, but you’d need just compensation for having to be around Tony that much.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.

“What, you haven’t tried to get stuff out of him? He’s Tony Stark! He could get you amazing stuff. Like, stuff you can’t even buy. Like illegal fireworks. Or stuff made especially for you. Customisable cars, customisable bows, helicopters…He could probably get someone to paint a portrait of you in a cool pose, or in a fancy armchair looking all serious…I’d ask for a cool car at least.”

Natasha turned to Clint.

“I had no idea you were that shallow.”

“I’m not saying I’d sleep with Tony for stuff, I’m just saying if you’re already sleeping with Tony for money you should be aiming high.”

Tony entered the room at that point, holding a bottle of beer.

“I heard my name. Who’s talking about me?”

“It appears Clint wishes to bed you,” Thor said.

Tony cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say that!”

“He said he’d sleep with you if you got him a new bow,” Natasha said.

“I didn’t!”

Tony just laughed. He sat down and handed Bruce a beer.

“He’s totally jealous of you, Bruce.”

Bruce averted his gaze.

“What took you so long anyway?” Natasha asked Tony.

“I was trying to find the good beer. You know, not the stuff Clint’s drinking.”

“I taste nothing wrong with this ale, Man of Iron,” Thor said with a frown. “And I have been drinking drinks of this ilk for centuries.”

“Yeah, why you always looking down at me like ‘oh look, it’s Clint with his peasant beer, he doesn’t know what good beer tastes like’.”

“Is that a look I give you?”

“Sometimes,” Natasha said.

“Well – if Bruce is drinking anything he’s drinking the best. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Tony put his arm along the back of the couch behind Bruce.

Bruce took a drink from his beer, feeling a little self-conscious. His eyes met Clint’s for a moment who mouthed, ‘cool cars’ with emphasis then nodded towards Tony. Bruce couldn’t help his lips twitching upwards into a small smile.

“So Bruce has told you how we met?”

“Yeah, just now.”

Tony paused in thought.

“You know, I don’t think I know anything about your life before then. Besides the obvious,” he said, looking at Bruce.

“Oh. It’s not that interesting.”

“You ended up as a prostitute for rich men. How is that not interesting? How does that even happen?”

“It’s not an overnight thing,” Bruce said. “It sort of built up to it. People notice you and uh…”

“I don’t think Bruce wants to talk about this,” Steve said.

“Yeah?” Tony said, addressed as much to Steve as Bruce.

“I don’t mind,” Bruce said before resuming. “It’s not really something you organise yourself; you sort of have someone else who’s in control of everything.”

“What, a pimp?” Clint asked.

Bruce nodded.

“Your old pimp seemed weird. Not that I know what they’re usually like, but he sounded kind of menacing,” Tony commented.

“He was fine,” Bruce said a little too quickly.

Tony’s eyebrow rose minimally and a hardened look came across his face.

“What is a pimp?” Thor asked.

Clint mused for a moment.

“They’re like a brothel keeper.”

“Ah,” Thor said. “Yes, they can be intimidating fellows. The women who run such establishments aren’t nearly as frightening until you cross them.”

“Oh man, are we going to get a brothel story now?” Clint asked.

“I do not know if I should…”

“Come on! We won’t tell Jane.”

“Fine, I will tell you a tale. It was my friend Fandral’s four hundredth birthday and we had made our way to Alfheim…”  
  


***  
  


The conversations carried on through the evening. Most of what they said went over Bruce’s head. Names were mentioned and though Tony had started off trying to explain who they were he had stopped. All he really gathered was that Thor had a girlfriend called Jane, and someone named Coulson seemed to feature heavily in anything SHIELD-related.

Bruce drank his beer slowly but steadily and relaxed into the situation. He was enjoying just being surrounded by people and listening in to their conversation, still in a way being part of it.

“So you went to university?”  Natasha asked, as they’d started talking about school and education. Thor called it the Hall of Learning and while everyone had tried to explain the American education system, he wrote it off as far too complicated. University confused him even more, though they just told him to think of it like a school for adults.

“Yes, I went to Wisconsin-Madison,” Bruce said, recalling information the files on his new identity.

“Wow, really?” Tony asked. “What’d you study?”

“Sociology.”

“Man, I thought you’d be like me but you’re all into that fancy degree stuff,” Clint said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Not really, I left after I got my Bachelor’s. I don’t really remember much of it anyway.”

“But you must have been reasonably intelligent. Why didn’t you stay on for post-grad?” Tony asked.

“I only really worked to get into university because it was what I was expected to do. Then I worked to get my degree because everyone else did, and I thought that meant I should as well. I realised sometime before graduating that maybe there’s more to life than what you’re supposed to do.”

“Well, you’ve definitely found a job I’m pretty sure most people would say you’re not supposed to do,” Clint declared.

“You can talk. You grew up in a fucking circus, turned thief and then became a spy,” Tony said.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Clint mumbled.

“A circus?” Bruce asked.

“Yep. Acrobats, sword swallowers, tight-rope walkers, knife throwers – the whole shebang. Never even finished high school.”

Bruce noted a hint of pride in his voice.

“And Natasha?” Bruce asked.

“I never went to university,” Natasha stated simply.

“And that’s the most you’re gonna get from her,” Clint said.

As Tony started talking about MIT, his degrees, and the honorary doctorates he’d been awarded in the past few years, Bruce noticed his beer bottle was empty and excused himself to go to the kitchen.

He found the fridge and was looking inside it when Bruce heard somebody enter the room. He turned, surprised, and found Natasha facing him with her back leaning against the counter.

Bruce felt his heart beat speed up. He grabbed a bottle and shut the fridge quickly.

When Bruce looked up he saw Natasha sipping at a glass of water and looking at him like she was trying to see into his very soul. He felt exposed and restless, but remained still. In a few seconds the look vanished but there was still a seriousness in Natasha’s expression.

“You know, Bruce, I don’t really know you,” Natasha paused, eyebrows furrowed, obviously thinking. “But I know that you’re not defined by what you’re paid to do. You are someone beyond that.”

Bruce was stunned into silence.

She left without waiting for his reply. Bruce just stood there, wondering exactly what she had seen in those few moments.  
  


***  
  


By the end of the evening Bruce felt giddy and his skin seemed to tingle. At some point Tony evidently had become bored of the conversation and instead had leant towards Bruce and started kissing him. It was a deep, lustful kiss which Bruce returned tentatively, feeling self-conscious.

“Man or Iron! This is not your bedchamber!” Thor called out.

“Yeah, seriously man,” Bruce heard Clint say.

Tony drew away from Bruce, grinning.

“How about we blow this joint?” he asked Bruce, who smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah, we’re headed upstairs now,” Tony told everyone else as he stood up from the couch.

A chorus of “Bye Bruce” and “See you Tony” was heard as Tony led Bruce out of the apartment and into the elevator.

When they got upstairs and into Tony’s apartment, Tony kissed Bruce again, but this time hard, like he was trying to force Bruce to relax.

“You did so well,” Tony said with something akin to pride as he moved on to kiss Bruce’s jaw.

“Well?” Bruce repeated, confused.

“You seemed really tense at first,” Tony said in between his kisses.

“Your friends are famous for dealing with threats that the US Army isn’t even prepared for.”

Tony smiled.

“Yeah, but you’re not a threat, are you? You’re just Bruce.”

Tony emphasised this by poking Bruce intently on the chest with his finger. He then leaned in and kissed Bruce, grasping his head, his tongue moving wildly against Bruce’s. Tony tasted like whiskey and Bruce wasn’t sure if he liked it but he went ahead and kissed Tony back because that was what he was meant to do.

When they broke apart Tony was staring at Bruce with a familiar hungry look on his face and his darkened eyes.

“Bedroom?” Tony asked.

Bruce nodded mutely and followed as Tony led the way.  
  


***  
  


When Bruce woke up the next morning he found Tony gone.

Bruce yawned and stretched his limbs.

“What time is it, JARVIS?” Bruce asked, stretched his limbs across the sheets.

“It is currently 10:30am, Mr Bishop.”

Bruce stopped for a moment. He didn’t usually sleep in this late. But yesterday had been tiring.

He got up and got dressed, this time electing to put on a shirt before leaving the room. His bare feet padded across the floor as he made his way into the kitchen. Bruce turned on the coffee machine and got out a package of coffee beans when something occurred to him.

“JARVIS, where is Tony this morning?”

“Sir is currently in his workshop, Mr .”

“Do you think he’d want me to make him coffee?”

There was a jarring pause where Bruce was filled with terror that JARVIS could see through his flimsy excuse to get to into Tony’s work shop.

“I’m sure Sir would be appreciative.”

Bruce turned back to the machine and proceeded to make two cups of coffee. After he finished he asked JARVIS to guide him to the workshop.

Bruce took the elevator down several floors. The doors opened to a large engineering workshop.

Bruce couldn’t see Tony at first and walked in, looking around. Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

Tony was sitting at a work bench, a tiny piece of circuitry in one of his hands, the other holding possibly one of the smallest soldering irons Bruce had ever seen.

It was delicate work. Bruce didn’t want to disturb him so he stood there holding two mugs of coffee and trying to work out the best moment to announce his presence.

“I know you’re there, you know,” Tony said after a few minutes, causing Bruce to jump. Thankfully he didn’t spill anything.

Tony put the soldering iron and the circuitry down.

“Oh, Bruce. You got me coffee.”

Tony smiled as Bruce walked up and handed the mug to him.

“You know this isn’t in your contract, right?”

“I didn’t know I had a contract,” Bruce said wryly.

 Tony shrugged.

“It’s a turn of phrase.”

Bruce turned his attention across the room again as Tony took a sip of his coffee. He couldn’t tell what half of it was; bits and pieces were spread out amongst equipment, there were large red tool chests, as well as a drawer from one near Tony which held within it several different soldering irons of different shapes and sizes. There was a robotic arm which was currently deactivated but which probably could work with absolute precision in helping Tony assemble his inventions. Things too large to fit on the benches stood against the walls near mostly full shelves. Bruce had no clue what they were for but one of them was blinking a small blue light intermittently.

Numerous screens were set up around the workshop, a lot of them displaying data which from this far away Bruce couldn’t read with any accuracy. There was screen near Tony he recognised the small engine Tony had shown him yesterday. Apparently he’d decided it was worth constructing.

“Pretty impressive, huh?” Tony said, looking smug.

“I’ve never been to a workshop before, but yeah,” Bruce said, a little overwhelmed.

“I’d show you everything, but well, it’d probably take all day.”

Bruce drew his attention to the screen.

“That’s what you showed me yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, I think it could help economise the thrust capacity of Mark VII so I can put more emphasis on the repulsor tech, but I’m still trying to figure out if there’s a way to increase the nuclear fission within the magnetic field and minimise the circuitry needed so that there’s more room for missiles and longer range weapons without comprising the aerodynamics. I can only change the weight of the missiles so far before compromising their effectiveness. Basically, I’m trying to figure out the best way to maximise the efficiency without specialising the suit too much.”

Bruce stood there for a moment, silent.

“Yeah, it’s kind of just a pet project at the moment. Otherwise I’d probably have made more leeway.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly in thought. Nuclear fission was the basic concept behind the arc reactor, he knew, but without knowing the details he couldn’t help Tony.

On second thought, he didn’t want to help Tony. That’s not why he was here. He was here to _steal_ from Tony. In spite of this, no one except Tony truly knew how arc reactor tech worked, and Bruce didn’t think he’d be the one to steal it or wheedle it out of Tony.

Still, it was interesting, and Bruce hadn’t done any problem solving in a long time.

“This probably means nothing to you,” Tony said dismissively.

Bruce nodded slowly. He was about to say something when suddenly a loud alarm sounded.

“Oh fuck,” Tony said, standing up.

“What is it?” Bruce asked, suddenly fearful.

“There’s been an attack downtown, Sir. Eye witnesses have described it as ‘strange globs emerging from the sea’,” declared JARVIS.

“Well, duty calls,” Tony said, picking up what looked like a strange red suitcase. Opening it Bruce watched in amazement as an Iron Man suit slowly formed around him.

“Don’t wait up,” Tony said as he walked far off and up a steadying slope which Bruce guessed must lead up and out of the building.

Bruce remained still for several seconds. The realisation hit him that he was alone in Tony’s workshop. The screen was a metre away, and even though it only showed the mechanics of an engine Bruce figured it was better than nothing.

He just had to figure out a way to make JARVIS not think he was purposefully looking at it.

Bruce noted the coffee cup on Tony’s bench. It was fairly close to the screen. Before Bruce could think the better of it he leant forward as though to pick it up, fumbling it slightly at the strange angle, and spilling it.

He swore underneath his breath, and moved the circuit and the soldering iron out of the liquid’s way.  Bruce looked around, searching for something to clean it up with. He spotted a greasy hand towel across the room and went to retrieve it. He walked closer up to the screen as he wiped the spilled coffee, his eyes flitting upwards to look up at the screen. A section of the engine was shown at the bottom of the screen, with what was obviously the outline of the circuitry with annotations and a row of numbers beneath. Bruce tried to make sense of it, cleaning the coffee as slowly as possible without being noticed, and looking at the screen in a way which, if noticeable, looked simply curious.

Bruce was never that educated in engineering unless it was somehow relevant in understanding scientific equipment, so most of what he saw went over his head. He could probably get a better grip on it if he didn’t know he was being watched. Bruce still tried to stow away as much into his mind as possible. Even though it wasn’t something that exciting, it was at least something. His employer couldn’t say he wasn’t trying.

After Bruce couldn’t possibly justify staying any longer he picked up the cup along with his own. He wasn’t sure what to do with the towel so he simply left it on the bench.

Bruce went back up to Tony’s apartment and put the mugs in the kitchen. He paused for a moment. It would be a good idea to draw and write down what he had found but he didn’t know how to without getting caught. His heart thumped in his chest as he tried to think. Steve had mentioned something about JARVIS allowing them privacy. Surely that meant that Bruce’s bathroom wouldn’t be under surveillance.

Bruce walked back and forth trying to decide what to do. He could lose everything he’d just seen. He had a good memory but it could slip so easily through the cracks. Conversely, he could take a book into the bathroom and put everything down on one of the blank pages. Then Bruce would definitely have something. Admittedly something that probably meant nothing without the rest of the engine. But there was the chance that this would be the best opportunity he’d had. This could be all the information he’d get. It might even prove to be useful.

Bruce was wringing his hands, the two sides of the argument tormenting him, putting him in a state of inertia. Nothing would change as long as he did nothing.

Bruce took a deep breath and walked quickly to his room, taking up the first book he could see, along with a pen, and went into the bathroom before he could change his mind.

Putting the lid down, he sat on the toilet. Bruce opened the book and began to write furiously. After five minutes he reviewed it. Mostly happy with it, he sighed and closed the book. Bruce flushed the toilet before leaving, adding to the deceit, and went into the living room to read.  
  


***  
  


Tony came back a few hours later, covered in a strange pasty-yellow congealed muck. After first going for a shower, Tony came back to see Bruce. Tony was smiling broadly. Tony didn’t seem in the least bit suspicious or wary. Bruce was safe.

“You that glad I didn’t get hurt?” Tony asked teasingly, misinterpreting the relief on Bruce’s face.

Bruce didn’t feel nearly as much displeasure as usual as Tony took him to bed. Between the ragged breaths and desperate thrusts Bruce found a sort of peace, devoid of worry. His mind fell back as his body worked by instinct.

It was only in a post-orgasmic haze that Bruce came to his senses. Tomorrow he’d have to try this all over again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late again. This isn't as easy-going as I thought it would be. But it's here so rejoice!
> 
> Feeling really unsure about this one. Are people finding this boring? I have no idea what you're thinking, please enlighten me. Also are people happy with the length? Would you prefer if updates were shorter and more frequent, or is it fine as it is?
> 
> Thank you people who comment. You are diamonds.

For the next few days Bruce brought coffee down to Tony around ten a.m. Tony didn’t seem to mind Bruce staying while he drank his coffee. Tony talked sparsely on what he was doing and what he was working on, but Bruce watched as much as he listened and learnt more and more bits and pieces until he had a fairly basic idea of the engine Tony was working on.

Bruce was in somewhat of a good mood because of it. He was enjoying fitting it all together like a puzzle. He just had to try and forget what would happen if he got caught. Everything would fall apart, and everyone would let him fall into the hands of Lt Ross.

It was a hideous thought.

But Bruce very much kept it at the back of his mind as he made his way to the elevator with his two cups of coffee. He walked through to the lounge and was taken aback at the sight of Clint Barton standing loosely just inside the apartment.

“Hey, Bruce,” Clint said, noticing him. “I know you usually go see Tony around this time, but he’s busy this morning. So I thought, hey, why not show you the archery range?”

“Oh,” was all Bruce could think to say.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Though I can’t imagine why you spend time down there. It’s pretty boring unless you’re into that sort of stuff,” Clint mused as he walked to the elevator, Bruce following.

“Well…”

“Tony told me you’re interested in science.”

They stepped into the elevator. Clint pressed one of the buttons and the elevator starting moving downwards.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve been reading a bit on it.”

“But not engineering?”

“No – I’m just – when I make coffee in the morning I make one for Tony too. That’s all.”

“Oh ok,” Clint said neutrally.

Bruce felt awkward and bit his lip.

In a matter of moments they arrived on the floor and both Clint and Bruce stepped out of the lift.

“Ok, you ever fire an arrow before?” Clint asked as he walked towards a series of bows hanging from the wall.

“I can’t say I have,” Bruce said, looking over the different shapes, sizes, and colour of bows.

“That’s fine. Take, uh, that one.”

Clint handed Bruce a bow before picking up his own and a quiver of arrows. He walked Bruce towards the other side of the room which had several targets put up against the back wall. Bruce wondered how far back Clint shot from, realising that Clint was taking him reasonably close to the targets.

Clint showed Bruce the proper way to hold the bow expertly and exactly. He had a professionalism about him that was definitely absent the other night. It wasn’t exactly easy but eventually Bruce had a basic enough idea of how to hold himself and position everything. It felt uncomfortable and odd.

“Ok, that looks pretty good. Now you ‘ve gotta pull back and –“

Bruce let the arrow go. The arrow flew forwards before collapsing into a downward trajectory. Bruce looked at it in a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

Clint patted Bruce on the back.

“Hey, you’ll do better next time.”

They pressed on. Bruce was getting steadily better and had hit the target once or twice, though he was mostly convinced they were flukes.

“You’re a bit too tense,” Clint said, examining him. “You need to relax into it more. You have to think of it like the bow is an extension of you. It’s part of your body. It’s natural to be holding it. You and the bow have to work as one.”

Bruce frowned as drew an arrow to his bow.

“Think where you want the arrow to go. See it. Feel how the bow and arrow are balanced. If you think you need to change it, do.”

Bruce readjusted himself slightly.

“The bow is you. You are the bow. You are both firing the arrow. Now when you’re ready.”

Bruce concentrated hard. He breathed in. Then exhaling, he let go.

The arrow flew and hit the target, just one rung from the bullseye.

“Wow, awesome.”

Bruce smiled a little. He picked up another arrow and fired again.

It felt good. He felt like he was in control of something. As Bruce shot more and more arrows, all hitting reasonably on target, he felt something stir ever-so-slightly at the back of his mind. It crept almost to the forefront of his mind but it was so miniscule, so incremental, that Bruce didn’t recognise it for what it was at first.

It was everything he’d try to push down; what he hadn’t been able to allow himself to feel. Bruce thought about Tony, about his situation, about his employer, Lt Ross, the fire that burnt down his lab the night he first changed, how he’d never see Betty again…

And suddenly it was painful and overwhelming and more than Bruce was used to feeling, and he could feel the Hulk nudging pathetically at the bars in the back of his mind, whining like an emaciated dog.

Tensed beyond its limits, the bowstring broke.

Bruce looked at it wordlessly.

“You know I’ve heard of people using gun practice as a way to let off steam, but archery…”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Bruce held the bow up apologetically in two hands.

“Hey, it’s ok, just more money out of Tony’s book.”

Bruce at the wall and noticed he hadn’t really seemed to be trying to hit on target at all.

“Probably none of my business, but you’d at least tell us if Tony’s done anything or said anything bad, right?”

Bruce sighed.

“It’s not him.”

“If it’s something else, well, it’s your problem, but I also don’t want you breaking any more bows because of whatever’s bugging you.”

“Bugging me?”

“You know, getting you angry enough to shoot arrows like crazy and break the bowstring.”

“Angry…” Bruce repeated, looking thoughtful.

His eyes met Clint’s briefly. Part of him wanted to talk about everything; to let it loose into the world. But of course that wouldn’t work.

“I guess things haven’t gone as well as I’d hoped,” Bruce confessed, hoping if he was vague enough he wouldn’t give that much away, but still feel better for it. “I haven’t really had much optimism for the future but this…”

“You’re working for Tony Stark. You could be doing a lot worse, couldn’t you? Compared to just a month ago, I mean.”

Bruce frowned.

“It’s not about money.”

“Why would you work for Tony if you didn’t want money?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce said, who was starting to feel like he’d talked his way into a corner. “I was talked into it.”

“You don’t really want to be here, but you don’t really want to leave?”

“Something like that,” Bruce said with a wry grin.

“Well, I’m not really qualified to give advice but I think you need to think over things more. Or maybe just think less. Sometimes when I think less things make more sense.”

“I guess.”

Clint smiled at Bruce.

 “I suppose you’ve had enough of archery for today.”

“Do you mind if I watch you?”

Clint smiled wider and raised his bow.

“Prepare to be amazed.”  


***  


Bruce slept in his own bed that night though his sleep was restless and uneven. In the morning when his eyes peeped open and saw not darkness or moonlight but the sunlight shining through the window he made the effort to get up. Nervously he ran his hand across the cover of the book he’d written everything in. Today was the first day he’d be sneaking information out of Stark Tower. Bruce took a deep breath.

After putting on his clothes and moving into the kitchen for his usual coffee-making ritual, Bruce wondered if Tony expected coffee this morning. Bruce didn’t think he wanted to see Tony before going back to his old apartment. He didn’t really want to see anyone.

Bruce made himself a single cup of coffee and sat down while he drank it. The plan was relatively simple: take the book to the apartment and then come back without anyone following him or finding out what was in the book.

Finishing his coffee, Bruce placed it down on the kitchen bench.

“JARVIS, can you tell Tony I’m going for a walk?”

“Of course, Mr Bishop. Shall I call for Mr Hogan?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

“Very well.”

Bruce went back to his room to retrieve the book before leaving the apartment and made his way down the elevator.

The weather wasn’t as good as it was on his first walk. There were threatening grey clouds on the horizon but for the most part the sky was blue and sunlight fell evenly across the pavement.

Bruce headed out as he had before, through the huge doors, out of the car park, and onto the footpath. He held the book close to his side with his knuckles pale from gripping it tight. Many people passed him; chatting together, talking on their cell phones, or simply walking on their own with a distant look on their faces as they moved towards a predetermined destination. Bruce’s eyes flitted towards the shops beside him every now and then. It helped relax him. He could convince himself that this was a casual outing. He was just like all the other people walking around him. But it was first in the reflection of one of the shop windows that he noticed something strange.

A woman always seemed to be behind him.

For a moment Bruce thought he was being paranoid but as he slowed down he saw that she slowed down too. He came to a halt in front of a men’s clothing store to try and get a better look at her though he had a suspicion of who it was.

She was wearing a thin pale blue hoodie, with the hood down, and black jeans. On her feet were two slightly dirtied slip-on sneakers. She had black hair and a dark blue baseball cap on top.

Bruce moved on, strangely calm. He’d been in situations like this before. He was fine if he didn’t do anything too odd.

Then he remembered the book. There was no way she hadn’t noticed it. There were probably twenty different explanations for it swirling around her head and half of those were probably full of all the wrong implications.

Bruce tried to control his breathing. Everything was becoming more vivid. The sounds of people talking, the sound of the traffic, the sound of shoes on pavement, the feel of the wind, the smell of food, the smell of coffee…

He stopped almost too suddenly. A café. People read in cafes all the time. It was an odd thing to go out of his way to do but it was a lot less odd than just walking around holding a book before going back to Stark Tower.

Bruce walked into the café. The cashier took his order and Bruce went to go sit down. He opened the book and began to read. The coffee was served to him after five minutes.

None of the words really entered into his head. Bruce sipped his coffee slowly. As far as he could tell, no one had followed him inside. It was likely someone was waiting outside. Once he finished his coffee he stayed for another five minutes before leaving a tip and thanking the staff.

As he exited the café, he quickly appraised his surroundings but couldn’t find the figure from earlier. Bruce turned and continued down the street, cautious and taking in as much as he could without seeming especially interested.

Bruce was only a few blocks away from his old apartment but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still someone watching him. He veered left down a side street. Bruce walked along it at a leisurely pace. It was a much quieter street with trees placed by the pavement at regular intervals. Bruce had planned to cross the road and look behind him under the pretext of checking on-coming traffic, but the trees held the possibility of obstructing his view. In spite of this he decided to cross, letting his eyes trail back toward where he’d come from.

There was no one Bruce could recognise.

Bruce started wondering if he really was just being overly suspicious. He crossed the street and made it to the next street. Turning right he saw the figure almost immediately. She was on the other side of the road, walking towards the direction he was going in. Bruce kept an eye on her through shop windows, noting that whenever he slowed down she slowed down just as before.  He remained calm, remembering that he’s thrown people off his trail before and much more persistent people at that.

At the next street, he turned left and went along it until he was back on the road he’d started on and made his way to a mall he remembered on that street. It was in the opposite direction of the apartment but he was certain he could lose her in there.

It wasn’t as busy inside as Bruce would have preferred but it was busy enough. He moved around, in and out of stores, up and down escalators, before entering a men’s clothes store. Bruce kept an eye out for her, and for anyone else suspicious. It was unlikely she was working alone. If she was, it was foolish. Still, he had to make sure.

Looking up, he recognised the woman. She was wearing a blue and white striped shirt and her jeans were blue. But Bruce discerned her shoes as the same. She had changed her clothes. It was a trick he’d seen before.

But it was a hook. It was definitely Natasha; she wasn’t hiding her face as much as before. Her wig was gone, and he’d have to be an idiot not to recognise who she was. She _wanted_ him to recognise her. If Bruce acknowledged her, he’d run the risk of her sticking to him until he got back to Stark Tower. If he didn’t, she’d have near confirmation that he was up to something – there was hardly any other reason to ignore her.

Bruce swallowed thickly. He’d come into the store to find a bag to hide his book in and to find new clothes to change into but it looked like that plan was moot. Abandoning it, he instead exited the store.

Things were getting difficult. There was only one other way he could think of that would solve this: the subway. There was an entrance not too far away from the mall, which Bruce was glad of. He was getting tired from all the walking.

Luckily, Bruce had brought money with him so he got on the subway without a problem. It was reasonably crowed, and Bruce was thankful for this even if he was slightly pressed against the side of the cart. If he could get away with not being seen by Natasha, or anyone she was working with, then he could switch lines. It might be something they’d expect him to do but they most likely didn’t have enough people to cover every possible subway exit. It just wasn’t feasible.

So Bruce continued, somewhat calmed by the regular noise of the subway train as it passed along its route. Several stops went by. People left only to be replaced by new people. There was no sign of Natasha.

He switched to a subway train going exactly where he’d just come from. Bruce felt tension in his body ease.

Bruce took an exit that was around two stops from his apartment. He walked up the stairs and onto the street slowly and with caution. Heaving a sigh, Bruce hailed a taxi. The driver was quiet as Bruce leant back against the seat wiping sweat from his brow. He gave the driver most of his cash and thanked him, even though the driver looked at him curiously when he realised that Bruce wanted to be dropped off on a small dingy side street.

Bruce rushed towards his apartment building. He saw no one as he entered the building and opened the door to his apartment.

Bruce locked the door behind him, sliding down against it until he was sitting on the floor. It had been an ordeal. He made a note to himself to somehow convince everyone that he wasn’t a spy because he really couldn’t go through that every time he went outside. It was just impossible, and someone like Natasha would just continuously look for more and more clever plans to really fish out what he was doing. It was frustrating.

Bruce got up after a few minutes, realising that this wasn’t the time or place to reflect or relax. He went to get his pills from the hidden panel first, hiding them safely in his pocket. Then he quickly made his way to the bathroom.

Bruce sat down on the tiles and put the book on the floor with a thud. He flipped it open and flicked to the pages at the back. Bruce ripped the pages where he drawn and written the information on Tony’s new piece of engineering before laying them neatly on the floor and looking them over.

Everything seemed precise and ready. He took out the phone from the panelling and stood up to take a photo. Bruce paused before sending them. He didn’t think they could cause any real damage. It wasn’t notes on weapons or bombs or anything like that. Still he hesitated before pressing send.

Bruce leant against the wall as he waited, hand palming his head and fingers lightly brushing into his hair. He checked the phone to look at the time several times before he finally got a reply.

_Well done. I am expecting more next time._

Bruce deleted the text and the photos before putting the phone away and placing the tile over it. He picked up the notes, uncertain what to do with them. He decided to keep them and put them away in the secret compartment where his pills had been.

He looked around as he left the apartment, nervous that someone had seen him enter. Bruce took a complicated route back onto the main street and with a strange feeling of both relief and trepidation he made his way back to Stark Tower.

***

“Cheese? Pepperoni? Chicken?”

Bruce was standing in the kitchen, Tony looking at him with an expectant face.

“Uh, pepperoni, I guess.”

It was the first time Tony had suggested they have dinner together. Bruce would have liked to refuse but their relationship didn’t give much leeway for refusing Tony. It was a fairly innocuous request but sharing food with Tony somehow felt abhorrent. Bruce had spent so long only ever sharing food with people he had met and trusted that now it seemed somewhat intimate. His concern over this was outweighed however by his suspicion that Natasha had told Tony something about Bruce’s outing that afternoon. Whether her report inspired doubt or simply confusion was something Bruce figured he’d find out soon enough.

“Ok, JARVIS – two pepperoni pizzas from that place I went to last week.”

“Certainly, sir.”

Tony sat down. He looked up at Bruce with a curious air.

“You seem tense. Is there a reason why you’re tense?”

“You’ve never wanted to have dinner with me before.”

“And that worries you?”

“Things I don’t expect worry me.”

Tony shrugged.

“It’s not that different from having coffee together.”

The tenseness in Bruce’s frame dissipated a little.

Tony began talking inanely about his day and the other Avengers but Bruce tuned out for most of it, contributing the bare minimum to the conversation. Bruce felt physically and emotionally drained and entertaining Tony with any enthusiasm seemed overambitious.

When the pizza finally arrived Tony got up to receive it from a slightly bewildered delivery boy before coming back to the table and placing one of the boxes on the table in front of Bruce. He sat down, opened the box, and took out a slice for himself. Bruce copied him, trying to control the strands of cheese that fought to remain with the rest of the pizza.

“Natasha said she saw you today,” Tony said casually.

“Did she?” Bruce asked as he felt a rush of fear run through him.

“Yeah, at a mall. She said you were acting kind of weird.”

“Was I?”

Tony was watching Bruce closely.

“She told me you seemed nervous and you kind of ran away from her.”

“I…the mall? I was…”

Bruce sighed, resting his forehead on one of his hands.

“I was nervous. I thought that…I thought someone was following me.”

Tony frowned.

“Why would you think that?”

“It’s just a feeling. I think I might have just been paranoid, but I tried to lose them.”

“Who would want to follow you?” Tony asked.

“There are probably some old clients who might –“

Tony’s face darkened.

“Like who?”

“I can’t tell –“

“Confidentiality? I don’t think that’s important if someone’s going to try to kidnap you.”

“I never said kidnap.”

“Why would they follow you then? Just for kicks?”

Bruce remained silent.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go out alone anymore.”

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Bruce asked, surprised at the severity of Tony’s reaction.

“I’m not going to wait until you get kidnapped before I do something about it.”

“Why do you keep saying kidnap? They might just want to talk.”

“You mean threaten,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes.

Bruce sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure I was just being paranoid.”

Tony didn’t look at all convinced but let the subject drop.

Tony tried to get a conversation running between him and Bruce but gave up quickly. He seemed disappointed when he left Bruce to make his way back to his workshop.

After cleaning up Bruce went to his bedroom to lie down. He read until he fell asleep, glasses threatening to fall off his face, and dreamt of arrows embedded in a bleeding Tony, and a silent Hulk sitting in the rain gazing up at a single lonely star.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally an update. I always bad about how long it takes for me to write these chapters but there are some things that can't be helped and I apologise for that. 
> 
> Also there's a sex scene in this. I'm not sure whether if people see that as a good thing or a bad thing but it's there.
> 
> Thank you those who comment, and thank you those who leave kudos. Your spirits are manifested as excellence.

For the following few days Bruce started spending more time with Clint in the archery range as well as meeting with Steve to talk about books and filling the library Steve had started putting together. The books Steve had were nearly all about the major wars and military conflicts from World War II up until the present. It was overwhelming.

“I can’t imagine waking up after seventy years to find out we’re still killing each other like this,” Bruce commented as his eyes moved along the rows of books.

Steve shook his head.

“I think it’s worse to have lived through it all and seen the same thing happening again and again.”

Bruce looked at Steve curiously through his glasses. He wanted to ask Steve about Tony. He wanted to know how he felt about the fact that Stark Industries, until very recently, supplied arms and munitions to fight in those wars. The question was on the tip of the tongue, nagging him like an itch, but he was scared JARVIS would hear. So he said nothing.

Bruce’s morning talks with Tony had taken an interesting turn as Tony had a new project to work on. Tony wouldn’t say much on what it was but Bruce knew it was something big as he spent most of his time in his workshop and hardly any time having sex with Bruce.

Thor wasn’t around much. Bruce was told he spent most of his time with Jane. He only saw Natasha now and then but fleetingly. She was always friendly and Bruce found himself at ease around her in spite of his better judgement.

One afternoon Bruce was sitting on the sofa reading a book Steve had recommended when Tony strode into the apartment. His hands were black with grease and his hair was sticking up in all the wrong ways. He seemed more upset than Bruce thought he’d ever seen him.

“Fuck,” was all Tony said as he seemingly ignored Bruce and walked towards his own bedroom.

Bruce sat confused for a moment before turning back to his book. About ten minutes later Tony came back in wearing clean jeans and a shirt, and towelling his hair.

“Scientists. Fucking scientists.”

Tony sat down with a thump across from Bruce.

“I told Pepper it was a bad idea.”

“What are we talking about?” Bruce asked, fiddling with his glasses.

“Ok, you know that project I’ve been working on?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got an associate scientist for it – whatever that means – because…ok, this is kind of classified, but not that classified, so whatever. I’m working with SHIELD to deal with some stuff and they seem to think that it’s necessary to get me to work with someone who I don’t need even though I could probably just read upon everything essential overnight.”

Bruce ignored Tony’s arrogance.

“Surely there are more competent scientists you could choose to work with,” he said instead.

“There are a few in his field who I think are smart enough. Two of them are knee-deep in research and the other one’s dead.”

“Dead?” Bruce asked.

Tony sighed. “Good ol’ Dr Banner. Papers were a bit long-winded but his science was in the right place.”

Bruce stayed quiet.

“Never really got to meet him. He got stuck into some military project and never went to conferences. Then his lab went up in flames one night when an experiment went wrong. That’s the official line anyway. I don’t mean to sound all conspiracy theorist but the military can be self-serving bastards.”

Bruce tried to hide his amusement at the irony. Tony had worked so closely with the US Army for years – in fact, still had a small association with them. Admittedly so did Bruce – but Bruce was lied to. The solution he was working on was meant to heal not to harm; to defend not to attack. His blind faith and his arrogance – that’s what’s led him to this life.

“You think it wasn’t an accident?” Bruce asked.

“Maybe,” Tony said with a shrug. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t be that surprised.”

Bruce nodded slowly.

“So now I’ve got to start all over again because this B-list scientist doesn’t understand basic calibration systems.”

Bruce frowned. “And that’s responsible for the explosion?”

“No, that was because of compatibility issues with some nanotech he developed – like I couldn’t just build my own. They do realise I’m the genius engineering inventor, right?”

Bruce sat musing on what Tony had mentioned. He hadn’t learned much about how far nanotechnology had come along and what its current applications were in the field of science. If he could he would’ve liked to press Tony on more information.

Tony sighed and stood up.

“Time to go complain to Fury.”

“Fury?”

“Guy you shouldn’t talk about. I didn’t mention him. He is not the droid you are looking for.”

Tony gave Bruce a significant look before leaving the room.

Bruce rubbed his forehead. Tony was a fan of his work. He even considered Bruce one of the best in his field. It seemed surreal. He wondered what Tony would think if he knew he’d been sleeping with said scientist for weeks. It amused Bruce a little.

What Tony was working on sounded too interesting and too important not to investigate.  Bruce knew it would be difficult if it was for SHIELD but Tony was already fairly lax when it came to withholding information.

Having come to a conclusion, Bruce picked up his book and began to read once more.

***

The next day Tony seemed to be in a better mood. He took his coffee from Bruce gladly as he looked at the screens in front of him. To Bruce’s surprise it was nearly all graphs and structural diagrams of unstable elements. It was fascinating to look at and Bruce started to wonder just what it was Tony was working on.

When Tony caught Bruce looking he quickly slid a few things off screen with his finger.

“What are the graphs measuring?” Bruce asked before he could help himself.

Tony looked up at Bruce briefly.

“Variables to do with radioactivity.”

“It’s pretty –“ Bruce stopped himself. He had wanted to comment on the broad parameters seemed to be.

“It’s pretty?” Tony smirked.

Bruce shrugged it off with a small smile. Then something caught his eye. Bruce took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, looking back at the screen. There were a series of equations that to Bruce seemed wrong. He looked over it twice, then three times – but there was no mistake. If Tony put it into practice there was every likelihood that his lab would be destroyed, and Tony himself would die.

A small amount of air shakily escaped Bruce’s lips. He had two options: he could save Tony or let him die. His employer wouldn’t appreciate a dead Tony, and even in Bruce’s mind now the idea of letting Tony die seemed terrifying. To actually make that decision and to live with it. A terrifying finality that he’d never escape. But saving him –

Tony stood up suddenly and went off to another part of the room to look for something, somehow trusting Bruce not to do anything. Bruce would have been critical of this if it weren’t for the fact that it served his interests.

Bruce walked up to the screen, looking around nervously. He tapped at the screen and fixed the equation with lightning speed. Bruce then stood back and waited for JARVIS to sound the alarm. But he didn’t, and after a few more minutes Bruce said goodbye and left.

***

The grace period, it turned out, was half an hour; that was how long it took before Bruce was called back to Tony’s workshop.

Bruce was in the middle of an archery practice and Clint gave Bruce a questioning look as he excused himself and put away his bow.

The elevator ride seemed all at once too fast and too slow and when he stepped through the doors to the workshop he saw a Tony he’d never seen before.

He was deadly serious, his arms crossed, and standing bolt upright. His eyes were like daggers; unforgiving and cold.

“Why are you here, Bruce?”

“Because you called me down here?” Bruce replied tentatively.

Tony gave a brief mirthless smile.

“Let me rephrase that. In fact, why not a completely different question. Why did you change the formula on the screen?”

Bruce paused.

“Because the equation was wrong.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Oh really? And what would a _prostitute_ know about nuclear physics?”

Bruce looked away from Tony for a moment, hands held together in front of his body.

“Bruce,” Tony said sharply.

“Did you check it?”

“What?”

“The equation.”

Bruce met Tony’s eyes. Tony seemed taken aback.

“JARVIS, run the equation, please,” Bruce asked.

“Sir?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Tony replied dismissively.

They waited for ten seconds before JARVIS spoke again.

“It appears that Mr Bishop is correct. The previous equation –“

“Would have destroyed the workshop and possibly killed you,” Bruce finished.

“Precisely,” JARVIS confirmed.

Tony looked at Bruce like he was just seeing him for the first time.

“You’re not Bruce Bishop are you?”

Bruce frowned as he tried to think of a way out of revealing his identity.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then who are you?”

Bruce didn’t speak a word.

“I’ll figure it out whether you tell me or not, you know that right?”

Bruce sighed.

“You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Bruce swallowed thickly.

“I’m Bruce Banner.”

There was a loud silence. Then there was laughter.

“You’re kidding, right? He’s dead.”

“They didn’t find a body.”

“It was a fire. A big fire. Of course there were no bodies.”

“You said earlier that –“

“I didn’t say I thought Banner was alive. And why the hell would he fake his own death? There’s no way you’re Bruce Banner. Maybe you’re actually crazy. Have you been checked out lately?”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Why would Dr Banner give up being the leading authority on gamma radiation to become a prostitute? Do you see the problem here?”

Bruce could feel a tingle at the back of his brain becoming more insistent.

“I don’t care what you think, Tony,” Bruce said through gritted teeth.

“Well, you should. Because if I hear about you going around telling people you’re Bruce Banner –“

Tony stepped closer to Bruce.

“Someone who pretends to be –“

“Excuse me, sir,” came JARVIS’ calming voice. “It appears that there is a match between the photographs of Bruce Banner and the man inside currently your workshop.”

“What?”

“It seems Mr Bishop – well, Dr Banner – is telling the truth.”

“Show me.”

To Tony’s left pictures of Bruce appeared, of both identities, as well as many folders to do with each.

“Holy shit.”

The tension eased from Tony as he flicked through records, photographs, and text upon text of information. Bruce watched, the minutest roar echoing in his head, as his life was laid bare like a frog ready to be dissected.

“Tony,” Bruce muttered, trying to draw away his attention.

“It’s really you,” Tony said with fascination. He looked at Bruce with a light in his eyes.

“Can you stop looking through all that?”

“God, I’m sorry. But you did sound like you’d lost it.”

Tony shut off the monitor and turned towards Bruce.

“This is incredible. Your work is amazing. Anti-electron collisions, gamma ray bursts, a little bit of nuclear fusion. I thought you were going to go on to work somewhere with a particle accelerator, but you did some sort of research for the army? What was that about?”

“I was told I was helping soldiers.”

“And you weren’t?”

“It’s confidential.”

“Seriously? You don’t work for the military anymore. They don’t even know you’re alive. How did you do that?”

“I got out after the explosion. I realised some things – about me, about what they were trying to do – and I left it all behind me.”

“You started over.”

“Yes.”

“But the explosion.”

“A mistake.”

“Like the formula that was on my screen?” Tony asked, gesturing behind him.

Bruce shuffled awkwardly.

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“No.”

“And why exactly are you a prostitute? Faking your death thing – reasonably understandable – but prostitute?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Bruce started wringing his hands, shoulders tensed and avoiding Tony’s eye in an attempt to make Tony drop the subject.

“Ok, sure. But do you mind if I tell Nat who you are? She’s kind of being spying on you. Wasn’t my call. She insisted.”

“Just her?”

“If you want.”

Bruce scratched the back of his head.

“If you think it’s important…”

“Hey, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Tony stepped towards Bruce, an odd smile on his face.

“I can’t believe you’re actually Dr Banner. I mean, you were amazing enough when you were just Bruce Bishop, but…”

Bruce stood in shock as Tony approached him until their faces were only a few inches apart, something dangerously close to affection in Tony’s eyes. For a moment it seemed like Tony was about to lean in and kiss him but then he pulled back.

“You should help me work on this project. I think you’d enjoy it. More than whatever it is you’re doing with Steve and Clint.”

Bruce forced out a laugh.

“Ok, I can do that.”

“Great! I’ll show you what I’m working with…”

***

It was incredibly satisfying for Bruce to be in his element once again. Tony set up an entire lab for him after the first day and Bruce was frequently side-tracked by all the new equipment there was and often experimented without Tony’s project in mind at all. Bruce found he worked well with Tony when Bruce put aside his resentments and focussed on the task in hand. In some ways he worked better than when he worked alone but Bruce tried to ignore that.

From what Bruce could tell, Tony’s aim was to create a kind of sophisticated Geiger counter to measure radioactivity with. There were equations to figure out, trials to run through, and programming to perfect.

“Must be like old times,” Tony commented one day as he watched Bruce hastily scribble notes down as he stood at the lab bench.

“Hmm?” Bruce looked up.

“It’s like an image from the past. You know, you, in your lab coat, doing your thing.”

Bruce had taken up wearing a lab coat though Tony never seemed to find necessary for himself to wear one.

“I guess so,” Bruce said with a light frown.

“What’s missing? Lab assistants? Military breathing down your neck?”

Bruce smiled sardonically.

“Something like that.”

“You nearly done for today?”

Tony came up to where Bruce was to look over his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve still got to finish…”

Tony pushed Bruce lightly out of the way and started clicking through a multitude of things, pausing every now and then, before altering bits of text and numbers. Finally he hit the enter key with a flourish.

“There! That’s all done. Now -”

Tony turned to Bruce and grasped the back of his head, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Taken by surprise, Bruce stood still and unreceptive. When Tony broke away from Bruce there was an unfamiliar look of concern on his face.

“Is this ok?”

Bruce stared at Tony. He’d never been asked that before. The word ‘no’ wanted to come out, but this was his angle; his hook, his strongest link to Tony. It didn’t matter if Bruce was now working with him. That relationship was new and uncertain. No, sleeping with Tony was the baseline and foundation.

So Bruce smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Their lips met again, now more insistent, Tony trying to remove Bruce’s clothes all the while. Half-naked, Bruce felt Tony’s hands roaming over his chest. He hadn’t truly registered that they had been moving until he felt his lower back jut against a lab counter.

Tony stopped kissing Bruce, who felt his lips already swollen and sore. Tony had a devilish grin on his face. He tugged at Bruce’s belt before unclasping the buckle. Bruce wasn’t hard but Tony didn’t seem to mind; he took down Bruce’s trousers and underwear before throwing them and Bruce’s shoes and socks haphazardly onto the floor.

Bruce was getting ready to get up onto the desk – simply waiting for Tony’s instruction to do so – but widened his eyes in shock as Tony lowered himself onto his knees.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, a high-pitched edge to his voice.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tony responded with his eyebrow raised.

Without waiting for a reply, Tony took Bruce’s cock in his mouth. He was barely hard at all, but the sensation of Tony’s mouth and tongue changed that quickly. Bruce couldn’t help the few moans that passed his lips that seemed to spur Tony on further.

It was strange seeing Tony on his knees, and it was unnerving Bruce how much he liked it. He liked looking down at Tony, he liked the way Tony looked with his dick in his mouth, and he liked how Tony looked up at him, his eyes blown with lust. It was the best blowjob Bruce had ever had (not that he’d had too many) but Bruce wanted more. He wanted control. He kept thinking about grasping the back of Tony’s head and shoving himself hard and fast into Tony’s mouth, making him choke. Bruce wanted to use him and toss him aside once he’d had enough – a cum-covered wreck. He was disturbed at himself; disturbed at how these thoughts pushed him closer and closer to the edge –

“Tony – I’m nearly –“

Bruce moaned again as Tony took his cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, lips moving faster and faster along the shaft.

“Tony,” Bruce gasped, his hand involuntarily reaching to grasp Tony’s hair, his hips bucking shallowly, before he came loudly. Bruce felt Tony swallow before pulling back when Bruce had finished.

Bruce was panting slightly, mind fogged from the orgasm, trying to process what had just happened.

Meanwhile, Tony had stood up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Fuck, I need you up on that bench right now,” Tony said, his fingers already starting to undo with the buckle on his belt.

Bruce scooted up and lay down. He heard Tony’s jeans hitting the floor from being tossed aside and the pop of a cap being taken off. Tony tapped at Bruce’s thighs and Bruce spread his legs wide. Bruce felt familiar fingers enter him, pushing in and out. Bruce tried to let his mind go blank as he finally felt Tony thrust into him. Tony’s hands grasped Bruce’s hips, slamming into him hard and fast. It was rougher than what Bruce was used to and he found himself gasping without really thinking about it.

“You’re so perfect, Bruce,” Tony said. “So fucking tight –“

Bruce cried out as Tony’s cock hit just the right spot. His hands grew white as he tried to grip the bench beneath him.

“I can’t believe I went more than a day without this,” Tony panted. “Or how hot you look with my dick up your ass.”

“Tony,” Bruce half-moaned. He wanted Tony to stop speaking. Tony always spoke during sex but everything was already more over-whelming than usual.

“Bruce –“

Bruce could tell Tony was nearly there. He tried to think up something to say to make it end faster.

“Come in me. I want you – I want to feel you – fill me –“

Tony gripped Bruce tighter and slammed into him twice before coming inside Bruce, a shaky drawn-out moan falling from his lips. Tony let go of Bruce’s hips, resting his hands instead against the bench, before pulling out.

“That was kind of incredible,” Tony said once he’d caught his breath.

Bruce was lying on his back, exhausted.

“Yeah,” Bruce replied.

Bruce heard the rustle of clothing and the clang of a belt buckle as Tony pulled his jeans up.

“I wore you out, didn’t I?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Bruce said before sitting up. He registered the uncomfortable feeling of come spilling out of him. Tony noticed and smiled a little, looking pleased with himself.

“Paper towels?” he asked.

Bruce tried not to frown as he pointed to a cupboard on the other side of the room.

Tony didn’t usually stay to clean up. He was treating him differently and the only reason he could think of was that Tony now knew who Bruce was. It annoyed Bruce. Apparently he was only good enough for this kind of treatment when Bruce wasn’t just some prostitute Tony met at a party. So even though Tony was on his knees wiping his own come off the floor Bruce still resented him for it.

Bruce hastily put his clothes on as Tony went to throw the used paper towels in the bin.

“Hungry?” Tony asked.

“Sure.”

Tony smiled and kissed Bruce languidly before turning to leave the lab. Bruce stood confused for a moment before following.


End file.
